Anastasis
by Vickie1
Summary: Cape Inacio, a small dangerous island that holds two sides: one brightly colourful community and one dark and sinister secret unknown to most of the islanders. A specimen, a monster in human clothing, will wake up on that island one day and find himself torn with choices the moment he stands on that single dividing line, among people forgotten by the world...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any Resident Evil characters or Resident Evil terms but I do own anything else that is original, Kronos virus, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps.

 **RESIDENT EVIL**

 **Anastasis**

By Vickie1

* * *

 _Summary:_ _Cape Inacio, a small dangerous island that holds two sides: one brightly colourful community and one dark and sinister secret unknown to most of the islanders. A specimen, a monster in human clothing, will wake up on that island one day and find himself torn with choices the moment he stands on that single dividing line, among people forgotten by the world... How very human his choices become..._

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

WHITE AND BLUE.

Below was white. Above was clear blue.

That was all. As far as the eye could see, those two colours stretched on for miles and miles. There wasn't a foreign speck for the passengers to spy - all six of them, including three guards and one pilot in heavy coats and on board the screeching, black helicopter zooming across the white tundra desert after across the Southern Ocean.

It had taken more than sixteen hours and still the large helicopter didn't seem to stop its journey. How much further...?

The Indian man stared out through the window as he tried to rub more heat into his stiff hands. He had lived most of his youth, even his young marriage days in the heart of Ireland and even then, the winter months were more bearable than this first time in Antarctica. Now, he really wished for a shot of whiskey just to warm up his insides.

Prasad O'Hehir was just a simple lead scientist from the necrobiology and the newly-built cryonics divisions. So his invitation on this trip came out of the blues. He wasn't on the same level as the other people on board - he was never the competitive type anyway. And all he was offered was that his expertise on cryonics was needed.

The whole journey had pretty much drained out every means of conversation out of the passengers. As of now, most of everyone was trying to fight the sleep from their legs and the cold from their body.

Several associate directors from certain divisions of the hidden, underwater facility. Two lead scientists he had never met before. Surprisingly, even Director Stein.

And one more, the only woman aboard, her glance never steering away from the white scenery since the second pit stop. Actually, her eyes hadn't torn away for the entire trip - no matter how much the others tried to talk to her, she'd simply give a hum and nothing more.

No doubt she was just fuming from the inside at the one fact. This was a joke - their trip was a sick joke by that one man. Having finally gotten a taste of freedom off their prison only to find out they were still fenced up, their invitation to the frigid land as simply _**business**_.

Prasad knew her all too well to take her silence as anger. And he couldn't blame her. He had honestly thought this was their one big chance at screaming out to the world at the drop of an opening.

Tell everyone they've been held prisoners at gun point. Tell everyone to come save his wife and son from this mess he and many employees have signed.

There was no opening. The last two pit stops on two different helicopters were at very isolated places. The company, HELIX Foundations, too smart to let them loose the moment they left the island and to boot, that one man controlling most of the ropes all because he had a free pass.

"Jesus!" One of the associate directors cried out, every attempt at rubbing his arms harder. "How much further till we reach wherever this forgotten place is?"

None of the three HCF guards in black replied - unfazed by the cold at all and hands still gripping at the triggers of their rifles at the first sign of any trouble.

Inhuman, Prasad had to call them. Them and their boss were nothing but human.

"Imbeciles," he muttered quietly. "I can't stand this temperature any longer! Why should we be the ones going there instead of the other way around?"

Yes, it was peculiar but Prasad kept quiet to his own thoughts while the other man ranted on with one of the other passengers. Out of the blues came the call just as he was setting up the Christmas light with his family. It could have been done easily the other way around, bringing whatever was important back to the island. Less risk the scientists could have tried to escape.

No, he thought sadly. They knew they had their staff of Cape Inacio hung tight by nooses - their families as unknowing hostages.

No way would anyone abandon their families...unless someone could really be so heartless.

Their trip off the island was just for mockery, no doubt about it. A means to taunt them just how close freedom could be and yet how very fragile it broke from their grasp.

"Has to be something important to bring us here."

"Wouldn't surprise me if it's another specimen or a virus. Director, you should know what's going on, right?"

The old man shook his head. "I know just as much as you do. All Wesker said was that it'd be revolutionary."

"For the Kronos Project?"

"Perhaps," the British man replied. "If this is Mr. Wesker, then it's very likely to be another virus he discovered. What it is, well, we'll find out sooner or later."

"Ah."

"I see. If that's the case, then it has to be worth this trip. He wouldn't call us to come to the tip of Antarctica for nothing."

"Hmph."

The soft huff broke through the conversation. And every one of the scientists stared at the source.

"You have something to say, McLenlan?"

She didn't reply to the shivering associate director. Not even look back, eye to eye and the lack of communication skills dug deep into his nerve.

"Easy for you to talk about this like any other project. Get a bone thrown and you are happily licking on it for scraps."

"What? You-!" he snapped but ceased to continue, knowing his place among high-rank employees and employers.

"Now, McLenlan," Director Stein started but was quickly stopped by a raised hand of Prasad.

No, his quiet, concerned expression told the director.

The director was firm at times but today, he let it go with a nod and a sigh.

"Idiotic woman," someone hissed, drawing a glare from Prasad that went unnoticed. "Why was she picked to come along?"

"Who would have thought she'd act very differently from her sister."

A cough escaped from Prasad and the rare deepened scorn from him was enough to silence the two men

Don't. Just don't.

Speak out about that one person in front of her was nothing but a death sentence. Frankly, he'd be happy to see one of them accidentally knocked right out of the door if they were willing to push her buttons.

Prasad gazed back but it seemed like the badgering didn't affect the woman much. Her eyes was still fixated to the now changing colours.

She just didn't care anymore.

A cry at the front stirred the HCF guards up from their seats. They were going to land soon.

Finally.

The helicopter shook with a loud thump, shaking the passengers lightly. At long last, one of the guards slid open the door, letting in the sudden burst of bright light, now vibrantly orange, and harsh gust.

"Alright. Get off," ordered one of the guards.

No one objected. There was no other choice. One by one and carefully, the scientists climbed off. One tiny slip-up and there would be the horrifying sight of a headless body from the helicopter's rotating rotors, white damped in red.

On the vast plain of snow, the wind gushing from the helicopter's blades had swept clean on the platform painted with a large white 'H' letter and circle. A small crew hurried to attend to the flying vehicle - maintenance, a good clean up and refuel for the trip back. Far off in walking distance was a small collection of buildings, a outpost owned happily by HELIX Foundations no doubt.

Nothing else for miles and miles. Only thing waiting for anyone of them to sneak off was hypothermia.

The guards split apart - one taking the lead to shepherd the newcomers to the one of the building and the few kept watch, their inhuman glares hawking about.

Only two were taking their time. Or at least one was while the other took notice.

Prasad turned back to the woman. She didn't move, not even by the spit of a HCF guard. She was all too mesmerized at the whiteness surrounding them.

"Never seen snow before, Lassie?" he chuckled.

She was quiet, unable to look away from the pure whiteness. "Never seen this much snow... Kinda miss those days..."

The jolly smile softened into a sad frown on his face. Oh dear. "The incident?"

A slow nod. "...Yeah."

He sighed heavily. The wound was still fresh on the poor woman.

A pat on her arm seemed to awaken her out of her trance of lingering pain. "C'mon. Let's hurry inside before we catch a cold."

It didn't seem to budge her but Prasad knew she'd be urged to go in by the chilling cold one way or another. The Indian man gave another comforting pat before he walked away.

She stayed firm, legs still planted deep in the snow. One more time, she glanced back up to the scenery.

Three months.

It has been three months since then...

 _ ***/*/*/***_

 _She was minding her own business, her eyes waving down the printed lines on the papers in her hands. The latest data on the last virus variant. The second one created with HELIX's creation and the G-Virus. But already, her mind was noting a few problems here and there._

 _So everything else was inferior to her ears right then._

 _"-the situation in Raccoon City has not improved."_

 _The name rang heavily that she turned away from the files and to the break room. Strangely, many people - scientists, security guards and even the janitor - were staring at the TV like it was a precious campfire. Even her close co-workers._

 _On the screen, she was seeing what looked like a camera shot into a devastated ruin of fire and flesh._

 _That couldn't be Raccoon City. As hard as she narrowed her eyes, she couldn't see any familiar landmarks._

 _"Because of that, the US military have fired what could be a missile, wiping the entire city off the face of the earth at 15:40 pm yesterday. Authority has refused to give an explanation as of this time but-"_

 _Her whole body froze._

 _Her hand on the papers felt too weak that she didn't even feel the thin contents slip._

 _That was a lie._

 _She heard wrong._

 _No._

 _No..._

 _Thud._

 _It was too soft for most of anyone inside the break room to notice. Eventually, only Prasad turned around to notice her having fallen on her knees, with the most traumatised look he had ever seen on the virologist._

 _It would be only later that he and Gordon would learn about the truth._

 _Her home..._

 _Their home was gone in a blink of an eye..._

 _ ***/*/*/***_

A deep inhale and exhale to numb out the pain. The chill was getting to her now. No point staying out there any longer.

Wheeling away from the breathtaking sight, she followed after the rest of the scientists entering the small outpost.

Inside that small little metal building, large enough only to keep a few vehicles, there wasn't very much eye-catching.

Only three things.

One was a bulky container sticking out like a sore thumb. A cryogenic pod. Two was a small cluster of boxes at a table, the smell of smoke whiffing from them. A peek at the contents and she could make out small sample containers, heavily preserved by technology and ice.

And the most obvious one standing between two more HCF agents, shielding him like guard dogs. The man in black clothes, his eyes veiled behind black sunglasses as they looked about pleasingly, the same as a hawk stalking its prey.

She sighed bitterly. Very much so did she wish to be very, VERY far away from the likes of _**him**_. Sadly, her reputation and skills seemed to be just the target for that man to pick on her. But no matter what, she'd not give in.

She knew just well what his intention was. Just like everyone else who asked her the same old question.

"Welcome, welcome," the blond-haired man greeted, spreading out his arms welcomingly - his winter coat dangling over his right. "Glad for all of you to come."

Albert Wesker.

Their host of the day. Their R&D supervisor. Their warden on the island.

"So will you explain why we've been gathered here, Wesker?" Director Stein spoke out calmly but the tone was reaching its straining limit.

"I apologise for this sudden interrupt on your schedule. But I do have a good reason to bring a selected number of you here. Especially those from the cryonics division."

"Another specimen to the collection, then?" Stein pointed at the pod right in the centre of the building.

Wesker nodded. "And much more. We've recently infiltrated a point of interest just yesterday and uncovered quite a good deal. And I'd like to personally oversee this discovery gets the full intention."

"I'm sorry. But you know your position, Mr. Wesker. Any project you have in mind, you'll have to discuss it with the board."

"Of course. That's why I've brought you all here. I can't do this one alone. And." There was a hum in his voice. "I can see great promises out of this." He then waved a hand to the table like wrapped presents ready to give to them much too early before Christmas. "There was an unfortunate fire, however. Most of the data inside two facilities had been destroyed. My men could only savage so much. Still, I think we can manage to piece all of the puzzles together."

"Wait. Is this an Umbrella facility?" one of the men asked.

Wesker simply grinned. "Why does it matter?"

That was enough to zip his lips.

A few of the other staff were lured to the table and the pod. She however, stood still. Unmoved.

And nuts, that caught Wesker's attention.

"Now, now. Why the long face?"

She curled up her fists. Already was he picking at her when she was still at her most vulnerable. And he knew full well the reason for her state.

He just found it amusing - her chained anguish all because the only physical evidence of her precious memories was easily erased.

"Pointless to be grieving on the past. We have much to look forward to the future, McLenlan. Now chin up and start your magic."

And she glared. Dark and deadly.

Don't push it, Wesker.

He only sniggered. Softly.

"Fine. Stay in your little world. But," he uttered at that word. "Aren't you even a little curious, McLenlan?"

She kept her gaze away from the cruel man.

She didn't want to admit it as she examined more on the human-sized capsule. The phrase, _**curiosity killed the cat**_ , had been kept check in her many times from past experiences.

It was odd. Normally, many specimens - from Hunters to Tyrants, whether dead or alive - would be locked up in large cages transported to the island by ship. Their enclosures lacked machinery keeping them alive and would tremble as the contents tried to desperately break free from 10-inch thick steel walls.

This one didn't quiver. How could it under ice?

"Go ahead. It might interest you."

She remained still. Just to retaliate against him.

And just before Wesker turned away...

"What's the story?"

He glanced back.

"What's the story behind that pod?"

He smirked. Mockingly. And she hated that.

"He contains the t-Veronica Virus himself."

Astonishment wiped across her eyes, a partial raise of the eyebrow.

She had never heard of that name before. And every strength she had was mustered out to stop her from asking.

But there was one question.

"He?"

Wesker didn't speak back.

She narrowed her eyes. Out of mild frustration. "What are you talking about? Who's _**he**_?"

A soft chuckle was thrown. "Oh? Now you want to know?"

"Tell me," she growled.

Every specimen she had ever faced inside the facility had never had an sense of individuality. A sense of humanity. A name pledged out. They were monsters, mutations.

But today, this one was different.

Why?

"Who is he?"

"If you're so curious, why don't you find out?"

She was about to snap out a retort, desperately wanting to smash that stupid grin from his face, get the answer she wanted instead of jumping through his hoops again -

"What?"

The strange response steered the woman to Prasad. He was reading the papers in a very thin folder, picked up from the table. No, re-reading it before he glanced up to the metal coffin.

"He's as young as my son..."

It was...an uncanny comment. And she quickly turned back to the pod.

Her pace neither quickened nor did it slow down. But she most certainly felt heavy, moving close to it.

She wasn't sure what was inside but she was going to find out sooner or later.

Her thickly-gloved hand reached out and wiped away the frost. At first glance, it was just her reflection - the tired, ash-blond-haired half Spanish woman with glasses.

And then she peered more through the porthole.

Her hazel eyes stretched wider and wider - not out of amazement or at the hunt of a new discovery but entirely, out of shock and dread mixed together. For some reason, added with what Prasad had just said, she felt her insides become colder than outside.

Inside the reinforced metal box, bubbles rippled and red hair flowed in a gelatinous liquid, a powerful and miraculous solution inspired by an old sci-fictional novel. More solutions to halt decomposition and a fresh litre of blood was circulating through tubes, some needled into the blue views of the specimen's wrist. The pod was well-equipped and up-to-date, small medical machineries running faint vital signs.

Every attempt to keep a corpse alive...

Iria McLenlan, a skilled virologist, was unable to comprehend at seeing a young red-haired lad in ice.

"What...

...is this?"

* * *

Vickie: Helllllllllooooo all! I've started a new fic, a complete revamp of a very VERY OLD RE fic I wrote looooooong ago.

...I got to stop creating new fics. I'm piling too much work on me. :U Heck I wanna do a titbit fanfic on CODE: Kronos characters, both original and RE like how Fortuzula does with her fic, Down Boy! (which I recommend all of ya to go read it).

In any case, YEAAAY! I get to write about the past few years between Santa Compaña and CODE: Kronos. :D And the main focus is poor little Steve waking up on Cape Inacio. Include zilla form too.

Now then, one, again like Santa Compaña, this fic will be a bit slow because CODE: Kronos is my main focus and I'd probably be jumping between fics for ideas like more characters or island locations and such. I'm actually been thinking of revamping a bit in CODE: Kronos, mainly some existing characters (kinda realized how many K names I have like Kent, Katherine, Kailey and now Kwan. Ironic considering the K-Virus). And two, Anastasis, is gonna have a LOT of spoilers that refers to CODE: Kronos so if I've not revealed it in the main fic, then I won't continue until I do. I'm sorry but I don't want to give dead giveaways too early.

Also three. This is more like a lighter story narrative and not horror or action packed, not really much game implementing into this one like my last two fics...unless its like a interactive drama game like Life is Strange or the Walking Dead but Steve being the protagonist. Hm. Maybe. Dunno how I feel about that kind of aim for a Resident Evil game though.

Though that's not to say Steve's not gonna get hard choices on Cape Inacio. Moreover, you'll learn alot more of my OCs like Iria, Kent, and many more.

Anyway, without further ado, here it is. The prologue to Steve's adventures on Cape Inacio. Enjoooooy~! And please review! Feedback is greatly appreciated. :3

PS. Not edited yet cuz rushing to get to work. Will look over later but point out any mistake. :x Also I'm a bit torn to make a longer title like Submerged Anastasis or something catchy but sounds...weird. Ah well, for now that title above is what you get.


	2. Chapter One: From the Phoenix's

Disclaimer: I do not own any Resident Evil characters or Resident Evil terms but I do own anything else that is original, Kronos virus, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps.

* * *

 **Chapter One: From the Phoenix's Ashes**

* * *

It started off like a spark.

In the void of infinite darkness, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing to perceive, not even the blackness itself. So all senses came in like a click one day and he was able to perceive that this was 'something'.

But even then, everything he felt around him was like a daze, floating in nothingness and feeling only the slow grinding and turning of the gears in his head. His sensations of time and space seemed almost non-existent because, well...

Nothing moved.

Nothing changed.

Nothing happened.

A world of stationary darkness. That was all and that stayed what seemed like an eternity.

This must be a dream.

Yeah. He was just sleeping.

But for some reason, his mind couldn't shut down back to slumber because of some muttering in his ears.

Whispers.

Sounds he couldn't quite grasp their meaning.

Guess he'd wake up soon.

So he waited until then.

But even with that, the dream showed no sign of ending. He wanted to retaliate but not even his own body, which felt very heavy and unresponsive.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't feel. No warmth. No cold.

Why?

His mouth tasted dry.

It was hard to breath.

This void was no place for a human.

A human?

Was he a human?

Wait. Why say "was"?

Then a more pressing question came to mind.

Who was he?

The whispers grew a little louder, as if they were approaching closer to him. Or was it the other way around?

Is someone there?

Anyone?

Hello?

The mumbling didn't answer.

Help me.

An emotion crept into him, giving a tightening tug at his inside. What was more surprising was his body knew what this feeling was. Something so primitive and old, yet still felt like second nature.

Finally, he remembered what this was.

Fear.

" _You sure this will work?"_

Gradually, he could make out words and eventually those broken words reconstructed into sentences. The only downside was he still couldn't proceed the meanings behind words.

Did he not know? No, wait. Why did he needed to know?

" _Honestly? What we're doing is something from fringe science. This_ _ **shouldn't**_ _work."_

" _You're tellin' me."_

Whatever they were saying, he could tell a few things.

There were three voices, each different from the other in tone, pitch and harmony.

Was one of them his voice?

...He wasn't sure.

" _We're tryin' to bring back his whole_ _ **self**_ _. Personality, consciousness, the entire packet inside the hippocampus. On a person who's been dead for six years. Are we even possible this will work? What if there ain't anythin' left inside his head after all that?"_

Wake up.

I want to wake up.

Again, nothing.

The voices still didn't respond.

" _He stopped breathing for an hour before he was set for perseveration. Even then, it took another hour for his body to be transported into advanced cryo. Back then, technology wasn't possible to revive a patient after 24 hours. Till now. Two hours is enough...hypothetically."_

" _That's if his brain hasn't become Swiss cheese goin' in and out of ice-9. We don't even know if this could further damage what's left of his psyche. If this time round, he has psyche to begin with."_

" _There's no way of retrieving personality and even consciousness, not with the tech we have now. Even with my sister's research, it's particularly impossible. At this time. But memory can influence behaviours and bring back common knowledge. If all goes well, his memories will reconstruct his mental state and he could become his old self, whatever may that be."_

 _"Or?"_

 _"Or he creates a new ego of himself the more he interacts with the world and from his memories after he wakes up. It's up to him however he wants to view himself as. Just apply Jung's theory. "Please measure their self-knowledge by what the average person in their social environment knows of himself but not the real psychic facts which are the most part hidden from them." We are and are not our old selves, we adapt to the world and change our personas to fit in."_

 _"And now we're going to the meta level. This is all still theory, you know. This whole experiment is based on theories to begin with."_

What are they talking about?

It was all gibberish to him. Hard for his mind to process them as they flowed into his ears.

Though...why was it hard for him to think?

Most of the words sounded familiar but the meanings behind them were beyond his grasp. As if...he had forgotten them before.

When? When did that happen?

" _What about the conscious...after death and revival? Does it stay intact or does it repair itself?"_

" _I'm not a psychologist. I don't know."_

" _I was wondering. Say he does get his memory back, does that also include him remembering his own death? Isn't that going to be traumatizing for him?"_

" _As badly as I was back in the last outbreak. huh."_

" _Well… I didn't mean it like that."_

" _It's okay. I understand. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger… It's still a good point to consider. His death may or may not affect him. We've got zero idea what his history was. And we don't know if he regains all of his memory, let alone remember his final moments before death. We can only get our answers after he wakes up."_

Don't ignore me.

I don't understand. I don't know what you're talking about.

Make sense.

Please.

" _Exactly what are the answers we expect to get?"_

" _Theoretically, three. One, he successfully regains his memory, has his mentality reconstructed and wakes up as a fully aware, functional human being. Two, it backfires, resulting in him waking up as a vegetable. Three, it fails and nothing happens. He wakes up with a blank mind, just like any comatose patient with severe memory loss. No, wait. You might as well think of it like your mind resets. He might have to relearn some things all over again."_

" _Theoretically, huh?"_

" _This is the limit of what we_ _ **can**_ _do. We can create a dangerous virus but reconstructing a human mind after death is a different entirety."_

" _And we'll only know if this works when he wakes up."_

Then silence, welcoming the conclusion.

Now, he wanted the voices to continue whatever they were saying. At least hearing something made the void seem less frightening, deafening out a strange and light ringing in his ear.

" _You sure you want to do this?"_

 _"..."_

 _"We're takin' a lot of risks here, not just on this kid but on us as well. Them high and mighty are goin' to hound after us if they catch wind. Moreover, they're gonna harass you more about the research."_

 _"..."_

 _"I'm not against you doin' this. Half of the stuff here doesn't feel real at all. But this is a human bein' on that slab. Doesn't matter about the virus, doesn't matter we've been callin' him 'specimen', no matter how you look at him, that still is a human bein'. So that raises another matter, if something goes wrong, is it going to add more on our heavy conscious? On yours even."_

The tension somehow felt heavy, despite how little he was trying the digest the meaning of the words.

 _"This ain't about the K-Virus anymore. This has nothin' to do with experiments and BOWs. This is the human mind we're playin' with. A completely different level. We've already gotten through these years with the bitterest taste and a huge burden on our shoulders."_

 _"..."_

 _"So my question is this. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?"_

Again, silence.

" _...Humans are temporal beings._ "

One of the voices answered back after what seemed like a long and deep breath.

" _Yes. This is the only way I can repay him back... If I turn back now...then he loses his second chance. He might as well stay dead instead._ "

Huh?

" _I'll take full responsibility. I was the one who started all of this and I am the one who should finish this. You two should leave. Forget everything we talked about."_

 _"Iria..."_

" _...Hm. I expected an answer like that. Now there's no way we're lettin' you go through this alone."_

 _"Harris?"_

 _"What? You really think we're going to walk out now? You know us better."_

 _"Couldn't agree more."_

 _"Ka-"_

 _"No Kail this, Kail that. This woman isn't budging out of this lab until the end. We've come this far."_

" _No turnin' back now."_

" _...Thank you,"_ the voice uttered. _"...Start the experiment."_

The voices stopped and at their cease, the ringing started to creak a bit like the volume turning on a broken radio with nothing but static.

Higher. Higher.

Then...

Suddenly, another spark. Like the first one, only more powerful that electrified across every fiber of his muscles - a sensation he didn't know of but he knew well enough it wasn't pain. This time around, two things happened at once that was different from the first spark. The pitch-black emptiness jolted with a flash of colours while a terrible screech filled his head. Something like feedback from a giant speaker.

He wanted to scream but his mouth wouldn't move.

Whatever this was penetrated his brain like hundreds of sharp needles, right behind the eyes.

This hurt.

Stop.

" _Pressure and respiratory rate raisin' rapidly."_

" _Hold off the anaesthesia and continue the inhibitor dosage."_

The short flashes started to repeat, the pacing growing faster and faster and the quantity more and more. Out of the vibrant scene, he could make out shapes but at the same time, they were all shapeless. Unrecognizable.

It was like someone stabbed a screwdriver into his head and tinkered around, like trying to get a lucid image on a television screen. Whatever this was, it was succeeding in that, making the images looking slightly crisp and clearing out the fuzzy lines.

Stop...please.

He wanted to crack open his skull and scrape out his brain.

Smash the bits down to the ground and stomp it.

And yet his body didn't cooperate with him to do so.

Why? Why?

Move dammit!

The images...it was as if they were forcing him to think, to recognize, to remember.

Remember?

Why?

Remember what?

No answer. Only the needles and the images overloading his brain.

" _Brain pattern going haywire."_

" _Readin's are getting dangerously_ _ **high**_ _."_

I want to die.

Yes.

I want to die.

Let me die.

End this.

In all of the images flashing before him, one color stood out vibrant. Red.

Red in blotches. Red in patterns. Red everywhere.

It was terrifying him.

Stop it.

Leave me alone!

Just _**stop**_!

"St-e."

A fourth voice. He heard that. Or at least, he did once. That voice didn't seem to exist on the same plane as the other three. Distorted and unclear, but seeping familiarity from it. For some reason, whatever that person spoke out, the word sounded very much something he had heard frequently - like his whole life.

Life?

Out of the expanding and contracting geometry, one snapped right in front of his eyes. Again with the colour red but it was only centered in one part of the image, something being...worn?

A girl appeared among the colourful and also dreary images. A girl, older than him, stood before him. The voice belonged to her. That red jacket belonged to her.

Wait...

She was familiar. Somehow.

More and more images flashed like that of a fast slide projector, showing more and more of that young woman, her smile the only thing changing - shining fear, determination, annoyance. His mind tried to rack, tried to fight, tried.

Remember… He had to remember her.

That person was important. Somehow. But the gears still were rusty inside his skull. Moreover, why…

Why was she sad?

Please. Don't be sad.

" _He's goin' to have a panic attack at this rate!"_

" _We have to pull him out!"_

" _Not yet!"_ ordered one of the voices. _"Come on, just a bit more!"_

Why?

He couldn't understand. Although he couldn't see her eyes, he could tell. A sour frown across that clear white skin, along with two thin streams slithering down.

Ah.

Those… He remembered what those were. Tears.

Right...

He had forgotten.

Yeah. He already did die.

" _You beat death, dammit. You can beat this too!"_

...Huh?

Can I? But...I'm already dead.

 _"So don't you dare give up. You hear me! Do this for yourself. Do this for that girl! You know her, don't you! ?"_

Know her...

I...want to see her again...

"Be-reful, St-e."

What?

Say that again.

She wasn't alone. Someone nearby rushed to her side. Again, he didn't recognize that man but for some reason, and with some reluctance, she followed after him.

That sad expression still fixed on him, a sad excuse.

Further and further, the two were going.

Leaving him behind...

Wait.

Don't go.

I don't want to be alone...

" _Iria!_ "

" _Do it!_ _ **Now!**_ "

A sound, a loud thud, rang into his ears.

And the needles came into a crashing halt.

No more.

" _Harris, sedative._ "

" _Right._ "

The images, with the flashing and the swimming colours ceasing, melted away into the blackness. And just as surprising as the fear had come, it stopped as well.

Soon to be replaced slowly by another.

" _I'm sorry to have put you through that, Kiddo."_

A touch. Brushing against the skin of his forehead. Pushing aside irritating fine threads poking at his closed eyes. One of the voices, strayed away from the pack, was now very much closer to his ear.

This feeling…

It ended the pain, the anxiety, the fear that he was trapped in this black world with absolutely nothing, even his own identity.

It was something familiar too…Gentle. Like this had happened a very long time ago and only recently, did this resurface.

His body remembered this feeling. And so another image came forth in the darkness.

It was like a drowsy wake-up. So faint the memory and yet so powerful, just like before. But he faintly remembered that he could barely think back then.

A blank face was over him.

A woman. She stood beside him.

Wavy blond hair. Wearing white.

Slender fingers across his forehead.

He didn't at all knew who this woman was. And yet for some reason, she reminded him of someone.

Someone very dear to him.

And then for some reason, he felt his heart hurt.

Why?

"I-pro-se."

Like the last woman, this one also spoke with no mouth.

"I-br-g-u bac-to-at gir-."

So broken. He really wished he could hear them as clear as the voices. But there was something he felt from that woman's fragmented words.

" _Rest, kiddo…_ "

Rest.

He remembered that meaning.

Ah.

He remembered.

No, too much work now. He was going to sleep it off, just like the voice said.

" _Everything will be fine from now on."_

Sounded a lot like the blond-haired woman, actually.

Well...he could think more about it when he'd wake up.

Yeah…

Sleep.

* * *

...Darkness again. But it was short this time.

A pleasant whiff flooded into his nose and pulled out a powerful image to penetrate the pitch black. A crisp and strong smell of lilies, mimosa, blackcurrants and cocoa combined as one.

Right away, a memory rushed in. A bedroom was presented, where a woman sat near a dresser and picked up a perfume bottle. She wore the fragrance on her wrists and sniffed the heavenly scent.

The woman then noticed she was not alone, gazed at her watcher and smiled maternally. Her identity was unreadable but there was something remotely familiar.

Wait...I smelled lilies and mimosa and blackcurrants and cocoa?

That was...weird.

 _Beep...beep...beep..._

What was that sound? No wait, there were more than just that annoying beeping.

His body still felt the same as before, weighed down by fatigue. His mind was also still numb. It might be a while longer before the gears could start to move again.

But he managed to force his eyes open.

As they did, everything around his was blinding. Luckily, the presence of the light was short, replaced with vertigo.

There was two things he was sure of and those were a mixture of rhythmical sounds and an odd but the sweet aroma that roused him out of sleep. He wasn't sure how long it had been but his body definitely felt like it has been a very long time. With some drowsy effort, he examined his surroundings. Something familiar had to click in his head.

...Nope. He still couldn't tell where he was. Everything was just too blurry to see.

 _Clak, clak, clak._

A figure in his foggy vision stirred at his right - small and in white, examining something that tweeted out beeps in a regular pattern. Eventually, the blurriness stiffened away and as he rested back his head, the ceiling welcomed his eyes.

Where was he?

He looked again, now that all was steady and still. Well, mostly for that stranger too oblivious to notice his weak awakening.

He was in a room, one he didn't recognize. The strong hint of alcohol pecked at his brain - ah, this was a hospital, right?

But still, there was struggle in his head. He couldn't remember how he ended up in a hospital. He couldn't even recall how long he had been out like a light. His guess was a couple of days.

Did he get into a bad accident? That probably was why his body felt so heavy as lead. How did he land in such a predicament?

...Wait. What about before he landed here?

More importantly, why couldn't he remember?

No, no… It was there, his memory. Damn, his head felt like somebody grazed a saw at it. Not just that, his stomach was having this annoying itch but his hand strongly ceased to listen to him.

Was the accident the reason for his amnesia?

 _Clak, clak, clak._

The clicking of heels distracted him from his clusters of holes. The stranger had left his side and strolled around the bed.

An angel. He saw an angel. How distressing, that would mean this hospital was a joke, an illusion from his brain. Or maybe the other way around. He really wanted to yell that he was alive and kicking, laugh right out at Death that it couldn't take him away this time round. Then one more close examination revealed his assumption was wrong, concentrated by the drugs shot into him.

It was a woman in a...doctor's coat, he thought. Was she his doctor? Frizzly auburn hair, and she had a short build. The petite paid her fullest attention on a chart, his chart as she jotted down something with a pen.

She put the chart away and started to leave-

"Hm?"

The voice was light but had a tint of an accent.

Accent...accent… It sounded foreign so couldn't be from any state, or even USA.

With narrowed eyes, the woman walked closer to him, her heels clicking louder. Up close, he could see the round glasses she wore over her large brown eyes.

For some reason, they squinted hard at him. Like she was surprised. Then a muffled voice escaped her lips.

What? Say that again.

All he could do was moan.

Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she stepped back.

"O-Oh my gott…" gasped the small woman softly. A step stumbling away from him and before he knew it, she dashed from his bedside. "I-Iria! Iria!"

 _Crash!_

And with that the notes that had been dancing about came to a crashing halt. Something dropped to the linoleum at the sudden shove by the woman as she bolted out, away from his sight.

That was music. At least, that was what he thought that was. Whatever it was, it...sounded familiar. Something he enjoyed listening unlike his pops, who always found them a little loud...

...Pops?

He was again still too weak to figure the jigsaw inside his skull. So he dove right back into the darkness.

Again, he didn't know how many minutes passed by but this time, as he resurfaced back to vertigo, two different people stood before him, their backs turned away.

"I think I've said this before. I'm not a doctor or a psychologist."

"And? You have a medical license."

"You're asking me to be his therapist."

He focused his sleepy eyes on the two strangers. On his left was a man. A very short gray-haried man for some reason, shorter than the previous woman. And on his right…

...Was a second woman, with wavy ash-blond hair messily tied up.

"This was your project. You know this better than I do so don't worry. I'll coach you. You ask the questions, alright?"

After what seemed like an endless pause, a heavy sigh breezed out with the hunching down of the woman's back. "...Alright."

Both turned around, the man uttering, "Ah, he's waking up," and with a slow start, walked closer to him - the man making a strange mechanical sound until he stopped.

"Can you hear me?" the man started off.

Ok, another foreign accent. Sounded like an old man born from England actually. Hm...then was he in another country instead?

When did he go on a vacation? Also, wow. Bummer that he got himself into an accident in another country. A frightening thought...

"Nod your head if you can."

Slowly, he nodded. Weakly.

For some strange reason, their eyes widened but it was for a short moment. The two exchanged glances. "Iria, can you? I can't check like this."

"Um, sure."

It was probably the drugs making him loopy but he could have sworn there was some hesitation from the woman. She leaned closer to him, their patient, taking a small pen-shaped flashlight from the doctor and switched it on. A thumb pulled up one of his eyelids. At the sudden motion of direct light into his eye, he flinched responsively. The woman moved to the other eye and swung her flashlight several times, checking if the cornea and lens were not damaged.

Now that she was right at his face, he glanced at her for a better look. Whoever this was, the ash-blond-haired woman was in her late thirties, wearing glasses over her hazel eyes. So close that he could see the evidence of many disturbed nights, the black rings being a dead giveaway. Nevertheless, the lack of sleep did not seem to trouble her much.

A groan erupted from his throat, pointing out his annoyance at the brightness to them.

For some strange reason, as she traded back the flashlight to the man, the back of her free hand - worn with a broken leather watch - slipped to his forehead, dragging away his red locks - her skin warm to the touch.

He shivered. He hadn't realized how cold he was till now.

...Also, were doctors supposed to do that?

Once she stepped back, she passed a nod to her colleague, who shone a gentle, warm smile at him.

"I'm Doctor Parish. And this is Director McLenlan. You'll be in our care, alright?" he asked. "Nod if you understand."

He nodded.

"Very good," the doctor praised. "How are you feeling?"

Sluggish. But he didn't speak out.

"You've been through a lot. But we need to ask you some easy questions first."

Ask him questions? He wanted answers himself. And what was 'a lot'? Just how bad was his accident?

His lips moved but nothing came out.

"I'm sorry?"

He tried again, annoyed at his own weakness.

"W-Where...am I?"

Again, both gave surprised looks at him, but this time painted with worried eyebrows. The short man cast up his eyebrows with a look of concern at his colleague.

She then cleared her throat. "You're in ICU in Theseus facility."

So a hospital. Though he didn't recognize the name.

"...How...did I…"

She gave a deep breath and answered before he could finish. "You had a severe incident that impaired both your body and mind. I know you have of questions to ask but right now, we need to perform this test to check on your mental health… Do you understand?"

He hazily nodded.

"Please relax. There's plenty of time. No need to rush after waking up."

True… As much as he wanted to bolt out of bed, his body just wouldn't respond to his command, so heavy and tired. Hell, he had too many holes inside his head.

He wanted to remember. So if he'd go along with their little game, then something would remind him of anything.

However, for some reason...her answers sounded...ambiguous.

With that, the woman took a clipboard from the man and readied her pen on it. "Ok. Take your time on this questionnaire… What is your name?"

...Name…

...My...name?

He tried his best to focus on reminiscing. His name was most important. It would be strange if he couldn't remember his own name first.

 _What...is my name...?_

Oh come on! It shouldn't be that hard.

"Ss-S...S-st…"

"Don't push yourself," she assured him. "One step at a time."

It started...with a S. It was on the tip of his tongue. The name seemed cloudy to begin with but seconds later, it became clear, right out of his lips.

"Sss...S-Steve…"

Followed by his surname.

"B-Burn...s-side…"

Again, he uttered as if pledging out to death that he was still alive. Still here. "S-Steve...Burnside…"

He was Steve.

The woman relaxed her shoulders, like she was the one having having the difficulty instead of him. But she was then more at ease than before.

Was she afraid that he wouldn't remember? Why? These were his memories.

She continued, keeping that stern face of hers as if moving forward. "What year were you born in?"

Another dive in deeper into his memories. At least this second time, it was less than how long he took in remembering.

"1-19..67…"

"Ok..." Scribble, scribble went her pen. "Pick three words to describe yourself."

Three words, huh. Should be easy.

...Maybe?

He tried. "B-Brave..."

She nodded, acknowledging one of his answers.

Reeling back into his memories. Who he was. And with that, he recalled more of himself. A stubborn teenager who was full of himself. Yeah, he did a lot of mistakes.

Never listened. Always jumped on impulses. Have to be the biggest jerk to show he wasn't scared in every bad situation.

"Rude… Hot-t-tempered…"

This time, McLenlan looked at him with a sad smile. "You don't give yourself much credit, do you?"

"...N-Never was...a nice person…" he coughed out.

"Really? I beg to differ," she offered her honest opinion. "You are brave. And I think also confident and caring."

He gave an annoyed and confused face. "...Y-You don't know me."

Her smile still stayed. "No," she answered as she drew back to her clipboard. "But I guess you can say I know enough to make those assumptions… What are your likes?"

"...G-Games... And planes. A-Airplanes."

She gave a light laugh. "We have a colleague who's crazy about planes too. You two might get along."

His eyes raised up with some effort - laughably heavy but still, he succeeded. "W-What kind...of aircraft?"

Honestly? He was a little happy to hear there was someone other than himself.

One topic he always found it hard to bring out were aircraft. Because nobody was interested other than the latest gossip and trend. He had always been fascinated by planes, from his eleventh birthday when he got his remote-controlled raptor till now. Bring out the turbine, the wings, the beauty of an aircraft and he'd jumped to the conversation.

Which was very rare.

Aircrafts always had something of a meaning to him. After all, he knew how to pilot one.

Ah.

Another memory gained back. The huge texts and step-by-steps, every single word he read and heard.

Taking the stick and pulling up to soar high to the sky.

After all, he saw up there as his freedom from all the bad things…

...Wait, what bad things?

"I don't know. But you can ask him later. After this test," she pointed. "How about dislikes?"

"...Pickles."

Her eyebrows raised at his response, a little hunch on her shoulders. A clear indication of a laugh smothered in.

What? He hated pickles. Even in burgers.

"I see. Same as me. I don't like pickles too," she hummed.

His brain ticked tocked at the faint strangeness in her tone. Why have a friendly conversation with a patient? She was a complete stranger to him, taking in all the information from him so willy-nilly.

Something was off but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Do you have a favourite colour?"

Ok, this was sounding like a list of questions his teacher would ask him to answer in front of his class in grade school. Still he answered regardless.

"B-Blue… I think. Or yellow… I don't know."

"Good. You're doing fine."

"R-Really…? That a-answer sounds weak to me.."

"But they're still colours you like, yes? I don't see a problem."

She turned back to her writing.

This probing of questions was making him curious. About this stranger. She was learning more about him and he had nothing of her, all because this was her job. He was her patient. There was no need for formality or being friends.

But still...he was stuck here until he was given a clean bill of good health.

"W-What..about yours?"

She glanced at him, shocked by his remark.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked with a puzzled smile.

"You're a-asking about me... Don't I get to ask about you too?"

She gave a tilt of her head. "Hm, I see. Fair is fair. But you're sure you want to know from a complete stranger?"

"So...? I-Isn't that the same for you?"

"Touché. Well... I don't really have a favourite colour. But I guess I fancy green and brown."

"Heh," he laughed lightly. "Those are blander than mine."

She gave a huff and a slanted frown, arms folded. "Well, excuse me, mister for being tasteless. Is this how you treat grownups?"

"Not m-my fault you have bad taste."

Intentionally, he had wanted to throw it off as a joke but he regretted going through with this conversation. How offensive, he was the one who wanted to ask in the first place. Really, he wanted to stop this bad habit of his. Badmouthing at someone just because she was older than him.

He couldn't help it though - how little trust he'd have to adults.

All he wanted was to sink back deeper into his pillow.

"S-Sorry," he managed to croak very softly.

Now, she glared back at him. "What the heck are you apologise for?"

The tone surprised him.

Not what he expected from a doctor. Weren't they supposed to be calm, collected?

"I-"

She cut him short. "Opinions are opinions. I'm not going to get hurt over something like colours. I make the choice to change or keep the way I like. But I acknowledge your honesty, kiddo."

"...Don't call me kiddo," he glowered.

She just smirked. "Already too late. Everyone's been calling you kiddo since you came here."

He frowned jadedly. "Y-You're weird."

McLenlan sighed, her face forgiving and her smile warm.

"You're a weird kid yourself," she pointed.

A chuckle came out of Parish, receiving an annoyed glare from her that he paid no mind.

"Let's continue on," she cleared her throat, the scribbling of her pen hard at work. "Let's talk about yourself more. Do you have family?"

Family… Ok, that took longer to move apart the wrecked flashes. The broken memories were shifting in and out like an old film reel playing.

The aroma was helping him somehow. Because it unlocked a more vibrant image. The fantastic flowery bouquet brought him back to the lady sitting in the bedroom.

That was right. That was his mother. It was a memory from when he was young. A mellow voice then urged him to look away from the bedroom to a man who stood beside him at the door.

A tall man, dull red hair.

His father.

The image stopped halfway, interrupted by an electrifying flash. Crimson liquid stained a red and white symbol.

His body jerked and his eyes shot much wider. Sweat dripped down his brow.

What...was that just now?

Both adults did not notice his frightened face, the woman, McLenlan, writing down on the clipboard and the man, Parish, noticing something at his left.

Calm down...you didn't see blood.

"Y-Yes..." Steve answered with hesitation. "M-My mother... a-and m-my father..."

"Any siblings?"

"...No." So he was an only child, he thought to himself.

"Anything else you can remember? What kind of people were your parents like?"

Like… What were they-

Bits and pieces of his memory slowly returned, but still distorted by horrifying scenes. First, it was him, a grown-up boy casually sitting on the couch, his mom in the kitchen and his dad checking the newspaper.

A normal family, with its ups and downs.

Then the living room turned bloody.

Then it shifted to the walking dead.

On an island.

Pulling the trigger. On who?

"Hey," uttered Parish. That distracted the woman away from her writing. It was then that she noticed the distraught and the rising pace of the beeps.

She leaned closer with a look of worry, dropping the clipboard away.

"His heart rate's peaking," Parish pointed.

Flashes again before his eyes.

Zombies everywhere. One particular undead character he fired.

A syringe inches away from his skin, containing a strange-coloured and vile liquid.

Insanity plaguing a madwoman's red gashing smile.

Please stop!

The images were overwhelming, piling one after the other. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to be unreal. Run away from those nightmares. That was what they were, right? Not memories. Sweat drenched down his brow as he shut his eyes tight but the darkness behind his eyelids was making it worse.

The director rushed up to him, hands on his shoulders.

"Steve, it's alright," she assured. "There's nothing to be afraid."

"Katharine, get the sedative," Parish ordered to someone far away.

"No, don't," she snapped and then glanced at the poor boy. "Listen to me. You're going to be fine. You're not back at that island."

Island… Chills jolted down his spine, his ears blocking out McLenlan's persistent voice completely.

" _Be careful, Steve."_

That voice, it was recognizable.

A flashback of a young brunette hit him like tons of bricks.

Who was she?

She was familiar.

He knew her. He had to! Why else would he have a memory like that?

She appeared to him when the chaos began. She was always there beside him, a valkyrie thrown down and fought the zombies and other freaks from Hell for their survival. She was present in search of her brother.

There were moments of comfort between him and her. And something he had for her. Love?

Finally, her name came to him.

"C-Claire..."

McLenlan's eyes widened. "Pardon?"

His heart tightened.

He remembered.

Everything.

He was imprisoned on Rockfort Island and escaped from his cell during the viral outbreak. He was forced to shoot down his father, his own flesh and blood infected and altered. He was captured.

He was injected with the virus.

As a test subject by a woman.

 _ **That**_ woman.

Oh god… No. No, no, no, _**no**_!

His body had mutated monstrously.

Distorted. Teeth into fangs. Hands into claws. Green eyes into red hungry orbs.

He wasn't the boy anymore.

He lost his mind to the dark side that surfaced, something that wasn't there before.

Somewhere in the far back, something that was born whispered a voice to him over and over again, chaining his will down so that he couldn't resist.

Kill her.

Give in to the urge.

Kill her.

It's easy.

Just swing that axe and see her crack open.

See the blood pour.

Disgusting, venomous whispers that pulled at his heart so easily.

There was the excuse. It was the virus that did it. He had no control. There was nothing he could do. But the truth was there, inevitable, haunting to his crushing morals.

He had tried to kill her.

He had to, because of the order drenched in crackling laughter by that woman.

" _No, wait!"_

She begged.

But he didn't listen. All he could do was watch from the back of his mind.

Watch in vain, watching himself try to kill her.

Shoot me. You have to, to stop me!

But she wouldn't.

She couldn't.

He couldn't blame her for hesitating.

Just like how he was to his dad. His dead, reanimated dad.

Only until the very last moment, did he stop himself from swinging that axe thrown at his disposal. Did he finally block out those whisperings disgustingly slithering into his ears by that psycho bitch.

And for his retaliation, he was butchered down. Pierced right through the abdomen.

He stopped cold, his struggling ceased.

Oh.

Right.

How could he have forgotten?

How stupid could he be at forgetting _**that**_?

Yeah, he died in the very cold place.

Then why was he alive?

Why was he here?

Terrified, he glanced about hurriedly. Aware he was in an alien place, not in that dark and cold corridor where his grave should have been. It was a room that looked as if had been taken out of a hospital and given a high-tech décor.

He ignored McLenlan's apprehensive face, her frantic cry for him to calm down, because it was not Claire's.

Where is she? Why weren't we together?

He had to find her. He had to tell her he wasn't dead!

Steve tried to move desperately but couldn't.

Why can't I move?!

A glance shot down and he found his hands and feet shackled.

Now he understood why everything felt shady.

Why this woman gave half-ass answers.

Why was a 'director' even supposed to be examining a 'patient'.

Everything wasn't alright.

"Hurry and get the sedative!"

"No! No sedatives!" she ordered sharply. "Steve, please calm down! We're not going to hurt you."

Shut up! Let me go!

This feeling again. Bound down and unable to do anything.

He felt this back on that stone cold chair.

He could hear his teeth grinding in his skull, recalling that feeling of utter powerlessness, made him want to lash out at everything within reach.

Like that woman.

That woman who ruined his life.

 _That bitch!_

"Steve, listen to me. Everything's going to be al-"

 _ **Shut up!**_

"Iria!" a voice from somewhere far hollered.

 _Krrr-CLANK!_

McLenlan, her unease turned into alarm, wasn't quick enough to see his hand break free from the titanium cuff and launch at her throat. Full force swept her off her feet, the weight of the other swinging bulky arm freeing itself from its prison and knocking at Parish.

 _CRASH!_ Something heavy and several somethings made of glass fell at his left, followed by a "Oomph!"

"Ed!"

Nauseating smells of floral, oceanic, gourmand and citrus brands fumed the whole room, making breathing even _**more**_ difficult for Director Mclenlan.

"IRIA!" someone hollered.

Tightness, she could feel it drape around her windpipe. The floor was no longer beneath her feet. She struggled to get them planted back on the ground but it was too far for her toes to reach.

"Emergency Yellow alert. Specimen loose on Med Lab D-5," yelled a robotic voice from above.

What? No. Dammit, not now, GAIAN. Why a yellow-?

Low, inhuman moan and the sickening sound of bones reforming tempted her to look down. If she was able to speak, it would have been a horrified scream.

The given medical shirt the boy wore tore open as his body hunched over, his head pushing outward. Muscles rippled underneath the scales of a Hunter that developed and curtained across his skin, which was amending from beige to grey green. Jagged bone spurs emerged from the left of his expanding shoulders. Ribs cracked and inflated collectively as his massive flesh continued to grow. His spine stretched upwards, a massive bloodless gash slithered down the hump of his back.

The feeling of his fingers elongating and claws emerging sent chills as they choked her oesophagus was unavoidable.

"W-heee-reee is Claaaireee?"

It was a low growl made up of almost audible words that snaked out of an altered vocal cord.

So she glanced down.

Eye to eye at the frog-like creature that shouldn't have been there.

The head scientist wheezed to breathe but the grasp tightened angrily. She was a weakling, trying frantically to pry herself free. One way or another, her small hands couldn't get hold of his bulging claws.

The prey, the enemy. Nothing more, nothing less and easy to be crush like a fly. That was all she was to the monster.

P-Please...let me...

She couldn't even voice out her plead, her head starting to feel heavy.

I-I can't go yet…

I-I...still have to...

"WHEREE IS SHEEE! ?"

The air shook violently around her from his monstrous demand, instantly rousing her back into consciousness, those red eyes of an enraged animal piercing into her soul.

She was just an obstacle in his way.

She had never been so terrified.

"HFC control arriving in three. Deploying Laelaps unit-"

"Take him down! Now!"

 _Bzzt!_

Something came at the monster like fires. But the shots sounded funny. Before he could understand what they were, a sharp sting localized at his side. Two more confined onto his arm and leg.

In matter of milliseconds, the triggers were pulled.

Voltage shocked through his entire body, paralyzing his muscles. Painful electricity surging out an explosive howl from his own mouth. His grip loosened in a jiff and Mclenlan was released, falling onto her rear.

He was at the shooters' mercy, thrashing about to shake off whatever was causing his anguish until he collapsed onto the tiles with a loud thud. The three pairs of metal pricks however stuck to him like glue.

He was in excruciating pain.

"STOP! Stop your Tasers!"

The electric attacks seized fire at McLenlan's command. The monster lied exhaustedly on the floor - his extended ribcage pulsed up and down fiercely for every heavy breath he took.

I want to leave, he begged in his exhausted mind.

Let this...just be some bad dream...

"Iria, are you alright?" one of the many voices surrounding him yelled, another woman this time.

"GAIAN, call of emergency procedure! The danger's over!"

"Ahhh! HFC thugs are here!"

"Keep those idiots out! We can't let them hurt him!"

"Ed, are you alright?"

Shut up. All of you. They were nothing but strangers, his enemies.

He wanted to fight. Charge right out of this place and escape. But again, his body wouldn't listen. In the end, all he could do was glimpse at his right.

There she was again, that woman on the floor, her glasses having shook right off her nose. Knees buckled down as she stared at him with a scared expression.

Her mouth moved but the ringing blocked out her words.

Then she suddenly bolted towards him with that worried face she had earlier.

Like how...Claire was rushing to his dying body.

Why?

Why would you care?

Why...

The blackness didn't answer the boy who was supposed to stay dead...

* * *

Vickie: HELLOOOOO! And here it is, the long awaited first chapter of Anastasis! Which is kinda similar to my old fic. Well, at least an improved version of the 1st half of the first chapter. I will say, I like this direction I'm taking and the research and science I did for the memory part (with some inspiration from the game, Steins;Gate). I think I've even made this pretty deep for Steve's reawakening. Give this chapter a more realistic approach then I did with the old one (which I kinda felt some parts were bit corny).

And how this will go? Weeeell, we'll have to see the next chapter.

I also have ideas of how Steve is as a character like his love for airplanes. Wasn't just convenience that he knew how to fly in CV so it was either an interest or he learned it from someone. I think it was both, and more I think about his little quirks and details in CV, the more I think of how like his family was, his hobbies, etc. Like maybe his mother was a pilot and she was his inspiration to study planes. Or there's a reason why his father did what he do before CV and that did do some rift even before the whole incident. So you can say this fic is an exploration into Steve as one with more backstory.

It's also gonna be talking about more backstories on the islanders like Iria, her team, Kent and his team, the people in town, etc. This is also like how well Steve's humanity and morals is tested not just in a world that's six years in the future but also on an island filled with secrets, half truths and deception. How he prepares to see that people can be monsters too, burdened to do things out of their control and sympathize with them. One thing I'm looking forward to this is designing Steve's character development on the island before CODE: Kronos (and you can see why I wrote him a little like a matured version of himself in that fic).

I wanna apologise to everyone who's been following and reading all my Kronos universe fanfics. I've been very slow these few months and it's mainly cuz of life and my writing (like trying to fill up the inbetweens in a good pacing). I do not intend to just drop these fics but I really do hope you guys will be patient on me. It really takes a lot of time and effort for me to write especially during whatever free time I have. And it is difficult sometimes when while I have the whole plots, it's just figuring out the little details that is tough. One thing I am afraid is that the larger the gaps are between my updates, the less readers will read them. VxV I've kinda noticed for my SC fanfic, I've not gotten any new review. I know that hey, some of ya have a life to worry about and I acknowledge that. I'm just afraid of taking too long and making it boring for ya all. Which I hope not. I enjoy writing this kind of idea I have as a inbetween story in the RE universe and I am grateful for everyone's comments. :)

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review!

A side note, there are some changes in characters so I'll be update my Kronos fic like Katherine, one of the scientists is renamed Katharine and she's half German (there were too many K names so besides her that's gonna stay, the others, I do intend to change).


	3. Chapter Two: Bond Between Monsters

Disclaimer: I do not own any Resident Evil characters or Resident Evil terms but I do own anything else that is original, Kronos virus, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Bond Between Monsters**

* * *

"I'm fine."

She wanted to leave. Now. Just pass her a bottle of painkillers and a pat on the back. No excuse note for a day off or the same ole "You need to take more care of yourself" speech.

She couldn't afford to take breaks. Not when things have escalated badly.

"Stop struggling so much. The faster I do this, the faster you can leave."

The ash-blond-haired woman named Iria McLenlan obeyed and let the dayshift nurse, Lola Baker, finish the wrapping before being handled an ice pack to ease the tension in her neck.

Yup. Today, she nearly died. But this wasn't her first time so the feeling afterwards was, well...neutral.

An hour ago, she was dragged out of that sterilized lab by three of her fellow colleagues, ignoring her demands - her wellbeing was the highest on their list of things to worry, not the spontaneously mutated, unconscious kid on the floor, or the overly-muscled thugs strolling in with rifles ready and no care of human welfare over the exhilarating capture of another loose specimen, or the wailing of the AI's voice booming around them.

The rest of her group told her they'd handle it and she had no choice but to leave the situation in their hands.

That was all she could do. After all, she nearly had her head ripped off. She certainly felt the maroon-coloured bruises anyway. One look from the nurse and she knew the question, how the hell was she ok! ? The nurse was too hesitate to even touch, fearing the neck vertebrates could break like a twig.

Ironic that the roles of doctor and patient were switched. Though to be frank, she wasn't a doctor in skills...

"Alright, done," Baker pointed with a slapping of her hands. "Now for goodness' sake, rest. You just barely escaped death."

So? Wasn't the first time. Iria simply rolled her eyes.

"Don't you give me that look, miss," the woman, just a decade older than her, scolded. "You should be thankful you're standing here alive. Just wait here until the blood test is done."

And off went the nurse, a few grumbles to boot but nothing out of resentment.

Defeated, Iria laid back on the bed. Really, she simply wasn't concerned much on either her own injury or the chances of getting infected. But the moment a monster touches a human being by the hair, it was procedure this, procedure that.

She knew what the results would be. Negative. After all, she knew exactly the makings of the little baneful microorganism inside the redhead's body like the back of her hand.

What she didn't expect was its persistence to survive for years inside a host's body. Maybe she should have. Even in death, the t-Veronica virus still thrived in that poor boy and onwards through cyrostatis.

Then there was the more pressing matter her mind focused on. The questions of why and how, and what would happen next.

The redhead's impulsive change shouldn't have happened. And yet it did. Was it because of the virus? Or because of the experiment?

And moreover, there was no doubt the majority of the facility would throw the kiddo in a dark small room somewhere at the bottom.

Too dangerous, they'd say.

A mild vibration and muffled buzzing roused her out of her thoughts. She sat up and forked out the one responsible for the small tremors - her phone. Quite an old model she had never bothered to change. At the little blinking icon, she flipped it open and there, she spotted a new message under the recognizable name tag.

Seeing that name filled her with warmth. Reassurement. Content. All of the bad feelings and dismay she felt earlier were quickly dispersed by the welcoming of that tiny message.

Right… She should reply.

Creaking sounds stole her attention that instinctively and immediately, she closed shut her phone and put it away - all with the thought that there was no rush. A turn of her head and she spotted the good ole Doctor Parish in his wheelchair.

His old wheelchair.

"Well, that was a surprising moment, now wasn't it?" exclaimed the British man, passing Iria a warm cup of cocoa he brewed to relax her nerves. "More surprising was your methods too."

Edgar Parish, one of the few main doctors supervising the infirmary did his magic on every individual walking through the infirmary doors with fractures, normal illnesses, colds and others unrelated to the abominations the scientists have cooked up in the facility. As long as it was something that was curable. Patch up the patient back on their feet.

Inside this den of nightmares, the jolly plump British bloke in his fifties was one of a handful that kept a clear mind with a smile. Yes, he was in the same predicament as everyone else who signed the stupid contract but smiling was all he could do. Just as he kept a calm manner after his accident two years before his employment - a blazing beam in his burning house dropped on him and rendered him paralyzed.

He was hopeful that he'd be able to work despite bound to a wheelchair. That hope was granted. He was still hopeful that one day, the trap everyone was in would come to a close. For the better, not for the worse.

One day… Unlike him, Iria was weighing both her optimism and pessimistism against each other.

Taking the cup, she straightened herself up. The skin of her fingers felt the warmth beaming through the ceramic. The taste of chocolate and heat stung her tastebuds.

These feelings told her she was alive.

"Repairing the mind of a near-comatose patient, using fragrances to wake him out of a coma and even helping him regain back memories after death. Sounds like those melodramatic sci-fi novels my wife and daughter-in-law reads. If we weren't struck here, you'd be getting the Nobel Prize."

"I'd rather take none of the credit."

"But you'd want to pass it to Carme, wouldn't you?" A twitch and a sigh. He gave a nod. "This experiment wouldn't be possible without both of you."

"That's the thing. It shouldn't be possible," she groaned. Even now, she was having a hard time believing it.

She brought back someone who was supposed to be dead. Mind and body. Probably thanks to the virus, probably thanks to the countless discussions and skills of her and her two chosen colleagues. Probably by some tiny slice of luck.

Who knows...

Any layman would be declaring her as the mad insane scientist. She did the impossible. If anyone had heard wind about this, those high-end ranks would be patting her on the back with those schmuck grins on their faces and say, "Wow, you've surpassed your sister, you know."

Like sickeningly always.

Keep it to themselves, she thought. This wasn't for the reward or the gloating.

"I'm surprised you went through with it, even on Proustian Memory. Anyone single-minded would brush that off."

"It's nothing...fantastic, Ed. I wanted to be sure if he really was fully aware with his memories, whether coma or not. His brain charts showed reactions to music, smells, everything."

Edgar rose a little in his seat. "Music too? Well, you went all out on this."

"You should thank Zach and his CD player for that," she pointed. "If his headphones weren't caught and pulled, we'd never have seen the spike in the brain patterns."

"I have to admit, I was baffled that he made a full recovery. He answered the questions well and his response to light and sound seems fine. After everything he's gone through in the report, I'd expect his brain to be nothing after death. Anyone would," Edgar stated straightforwardly. "...But you thought otherwise, didn't you?"

Iria nodded back. "I've seen the tapes."

His eyes filleted out but he was mildly surprised. After all, anything went through her hands.

"He showed it," Iria emphasized. "The surveillance video from that South Pole facility, he showed signs of resistance during his infection stage."

The security footages, salvaged by the 'research supervisor', were damaged. By the destruction of a building some ways away from the hidden HELIX facility she was brought to years ago with a handful of people. There were no lab technicians skilled enough or technology good enough to help fill in the spaces back then, thus she had to figure out the missing happenings in vain.

She didn't care about answering "Why do you want to see them?". Ever since that boy was brought here, she had done nothing but unravel the mystery behind him.

Not with a sense of duty as a scientist. Others would have discarded the infomation because _it wasn't important_.

She, on the other hand...needed to know.

Curiosity would indeed always lead the cat to its death, just like it did, slicing a couple of years off her now-tired sanity.

For a short ninety minutes with the magic of fast-forward, she had to endure watching the horrible and stomach-churning panorama of blood-soaked floors packed with moving tentacles, lifeless prisoners standing, humanoids swaying distinguished enormous right arms, hideous creepy crawlers and giant newts.

One or two times, Iria saw a familiar face - an old colleague from university - and looked away in horror. When the show was at its climax, she rushed out of the surveillance room and threw out her lunch.

Weak. She was weak back then. How funny she had changed so much now.

She glanced down at the lightly-coloured swirling motion in her cup from the rocking of her hands.

"He wouldn't kill that girl."

Her mind trended back to the last few moments of that tape. The first change to happen on that poor redhead had to tolerate, to endure his performance. The disturbing and distorting effects of the t-Veronica virus. And down the hall, fleeing for her life was that mysterious woman Iria spotted between the blurriness and the white lines.

That horrendous swing of the axe tensed Iria up to the point she wanted to scream, "STOP!" but before that could happen, it did just that without her telling through the screen.

And then the kiddo died...right before the girl's very eyes.

Heh...that pulled a tug at a familiar memory in Iria's mind, only to sour up her insides.

Back in that dark, terrifying, place. That one single night into a brand new year…

Forcefully, Iria pushed the bad memories far away. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of her past. She wanted to know the boy's.

Claire. That had to be that girl's name. Why else would he say it?

She must have been someone special to him.

"A reaction like that, it had me thinking." She pocketed out a small little bottle. One that somehow miraculously survived the smashing onto the tiles. "Eau de Charlotte. I don't know what's the significance to him but it helped."

Ed took the bottle and examined it with a contented smile. "Clever of you to use the power of senses to your advantage. Smell is different from the other senses, intimately linked to memory. Re-encountering a scent from the distant past can trigger a rush of memories in the brain."

"Clever? Huh," she loosened out a nervous laugh. "The whole lab stinks of perfume and everyone won't go ten feet near the entrance."

Edgar sat back with the fold of his arms after returning the bottle. "I'm giving you credit only for that. It was daft of you to refuse sedatives in the first place. You were nearly strangled by a Tyrant."

"And I lived to tell the tale. So sue me."

Edgar snorted scornfully. He had always found her sense of humour arrogant at times.

"Still...sorry about your wheelchair, Ed," Iria offered. "Should have listened to you."

The old man simply shrugged his shoulders. "What's done is done. You couldn't have predicted the outcome. We all couldn't. And wheelchairs can be replaced. You can't, Iria. Thank your lucky stars it was a mild strangulation. If he had held on longer, he would have snapped your neck in two." He wheeled away from her bed, driving to the nearest, reachable counter to search for prescribed painkillers. "Let's get you something for the pain. You're going to be sore the whole week."

The ruffling of plastic and pills was the silence, the good doctor paying focus to his job. But unknown to him, the silence was creeping up on the blonde.

Making her reminisce.

"...It's funny, though…"

Her voice started off weak. Frail actually. An unusual tone but Edgar barely thought much on it.

"The flashes came back again."

Edgar stopped halfway his task and stared at her, shocked.

She huffed at herself. "Thought I was passed all that. But...I still was afraid. Afraid of leaving too soon… All I wanted was to get out there any way possible and...hug Randy and Hannah tightly. Pretend that was just a dream. That I'm still here. I'm here for those two."

"...You still haven't seen-"

Iria shook her head. "Sorry...not right now."

Edgar nodded with hesitant understanding, despite sighing at her persistence. It did do her good some times but after one event, that trait has reinforced her not to talk about it. Keep the skeletons deep in the closet where no one could hear their dark whispers.

He understood. Just like her colleagues, they understood. But he was truly afraid that one day...she could snap. Again.

And she'd never come back.

She was the only pillar left good folks here have. Losing her would forfeit it all and they'd fall into despair.

Still, he continued on his search for painkillers quietly. It'd do no good for him to urge her to talk to a psychologist, or even him - he had a small degree in that field. Iria would simply push away an appointment with the quack doctor, exclude herself with the excuse that a director's work never finished.

"I have to wonder...if that kid was feeling the same thing I felt."

A rise of his bushy, gray eyebrows. On her face read a mixture of empathy and pity.

"Surrounded by strangers, thinking he was going to be dissected. He was...just doing what was natural."

"Strangling you was natural?"

"...If it was me in his place...I would have done the same thing."

Yeah… Just like before.

Iria gazed down at her hands.

These hands did horrible things.

All for the sake of surviving.

"A scared kid… Just like I was four years ago…"

The tight tension, the silence thick enough to slice with a knife stuck to them like glue.

She cleared it away with a light apologetic chuckle. "Sorry for talking like that… I'm still here. I'm still breathing."

"Yes...still here," Edgar repeated.

But for how long?

A remarkable woman she was but miserably, the stress was devouring her slowly for more than nine years, as violent and unpredictable as cancer itself.

The job had only been dropped into her hands the moment after the former head 'deceased' few years ago. A virologist who wasn't looking for ranks suddenly had the title fall onto her lap and it was then, she realized the ugly reality. The day she was given the seat was the day the pressure began.

And it escalated onwards at high acceleration...

Edgar could only hope there was a silver lining in her grey clouds. It was wishful thinking but he still hoped.

"Well, I should get going. No rest for the wicked," she proclaimed, slipping off the table with her feet giving a light thud to the floor.

"I know what you're going to do," said the good doctor, passing the tablets to her in exchange for her empty cup. "You're going to visit him, aren't you?"

There was no escaping him. She could never lie to Edgar, who was twice the honest chap than five gentlemen chattering in a fish and chip eatery. She'd just be adding more wrinkles on him.

"You know me. I can't hold a grudge."

"...Iria, I know you mean well… But that isn't a human anymore. You've seen how dangerous he is, even if he may show signs of intelligence."

Silence. But those hazel eyes told him well enough she was serious. She wasn't making a joke and she hadn't lost her marbles.

Dangerous… So what?

"That tyrant you call him... He's nothing compared to what I went through, Ed," she said with a hard, indifferent expression. "I'll say this again. He's just a terrified boy inside a monster's skin."

"Yes. Repeat that last part again. A monster. Everyone can see that."

"So you're saying I should write him off from us 'humans'?" Iria asked. "Sorry, Edgar. But I've seen people be most monstrous than him without spikes or boils. He was only doing the next best thing he did."

"And that is?"

"Trying to survive the nightmare. I know the feeling," she admitted. "Fight or flee. It's natural, Edgar. Every other specimen here, that's what they're doing. It's the same thing we're all doing on this damn island. Eliminate whatever stands in our way..."

The bloke sunk his shoulders in agreement. Yes, that was the ugly truth. He had seen that exposure surface out in the worst of people.

"I'm not saying we should give open arms to all the specimens here. They're already gone in the head…" Iria explained before gazing boldly at the doctor. "But this kiddo isn't like the others."

Edgar held in a sigh for a tense moment before breathing it out through his nostrils. Philosophical twist of her words to the point some would deem her as insane. He knew otherwise - she had been battle-stricken that it scarred both body and mind. From her dark experiences, she had become wiser.

And she was not daft to just waltz into any infected's chamber expecting to exchange word over a cup of tea.

"...Alright. Answer me this. Are you positive a specimen like him is sane and intelligent enough to be deem human?"

This time, she furrowed her eyebrows.

Powerful, unshakable confidence.

"I've never doubted Carme's work before. I never will. You've seen the results. He _**knows**_ himself as Steve Burnside."

There was a couple of things Edgar Parish admired about this woman both a good friend, coworker and boss - one was her intelligence, more baffling and extraordinary that most scientists here couldn't be compared to. Another was her complete faith in her own reasoning. That brain of hers has saved her skin many times.

With that much determination, there was no way he could convince her otherwise. She was already set for her next destination.

He sighed in defeat. "You know, I would advise you to take the day-off like Lola did but...you're that kind of person, Mclenlan... Just be a little more careful, alright?"

Iria smiled at the good doctor.

"Don't worry. I'll be," she answered and gave a pat on her black Taser gun, hanging in its eXoskeleton holster belted to her waist. A procedure for all non-security staff in the face of any danger. A decision based on previous incidents years ago, decreasing the death rate significantly well.

With a mellowly goodbye, she walked out the infirmary, her thoughts immediately bouncing to more dire matters. The biggest topic of them all and it was leaving her nothing but confusion, begging for the answers to roll up before her as she thought and walked.

Why? Why did the kiddo turned into a Tyrant?

"Hey, there she is. Iria!"

Her concentration took the better of her. She merely walked past her three colleagues, who were passing the time outside the sickbay for news of her recovery.

"I see you're up and at it already."

Noting her own ignorance, she wheeled round to the trio - a tall black-haired man fiddling a toothpick, a second man, short and stout with curly brown hair under his cap and the petite woman trying to keep up with her colleagues' wide steps in catching up with their boss.

Victor Fisker, Samson O'Leary and Katharine Raschke.

Once she halted her deep thinking and marching, the three ceased their following, their expressions showing different sorts of content at seeing her out of recuperation.

"So please tell us you are not going back to that kid," Victor huffed, his sour frown twitching the toothpick he chewed for the entire morning - one habit to replace his old smoking one.

Seeing her nonchalant face as her answer, they glowered at her with disapproval.

"C'mon, Iria. Reconsider this. That isn't a human anymore. He's like any other specimen and he nearly killed you. We should have sedated him when he started to lose his cool," Samson retorted.

"He's right," Katharine uttered. "Why didn't we anaesthetize him?"

"Because you were thinking the tranquilizers would affect his respiratory system," Victor answered before Iria could barely speak out a word. "He's a Tyrant now, not an Erinye."

"I know that." Iria scrunched up her shoulders as she leaned back tiredly against the wall. "But we couldn't take the chance now, could we?"

A part of her deep down was actually more concerned about the possibility. Yes, Tyrants and Erinyes had different biological structures, the chances were slim. If she was her past self, the tick-tocking in her head would be running the statistics again.

But she didn't want to take that chance.

"Really a dumb move, if you ask me," Victor offered, his mood neither dark nor disappointing. It was rather that he was surprised of the reason and her choice.

"I'm perfectly sane, Victor."

"Of course. We know you better than anyone here. But you're not thinking clear if you plan to go back to that specimen."

"Kid. He's still a kid to me."

One eyebrow furrowed down and the other up, he was trying to see what ground she stood to make that resolution. "That went out the window the moment he changed. Already blacklisted by GAIAN for his shenanigan in medbay."

"That change is what's bothering me," she uttered, continuing her walk down the hall.

"Oh," Victor hummed and followed after. "Well, that does deserve ponder."

"Wait, now! You nearly lost your head! Literally!" Samson hollered.

"Call off for a day, Iria," Katharine pleaded. "We should leave all this to procedure while you rest."

"That's the last thing I want on that boy," Iria hissed softly, narrowing her eyes tightly.

"Maternal instinct acting up again?" Victor proposed, sounding neither a joke, a taunt or a remark.

She simply grimaced as a response. "Call it whatever you want. I'm not letting any stuck-ups or HFC lay a finger on him."

"I'm not saying we're going to leave him in someone's hands, Iria," Katharine stated timidly. "But we can't go near a Tyrant either."

"You might as well join in. Once Iria's stuck on her decision, there's nothing bringing her back," Victor exclaimed coolly. Better to go along with it instead of trying to persuade her. A close eye was dandy to keep on her. "You both should know that."

Katharine heaved in and out a heavy sigh. Then for the sake of argument, pointed out, "Maybe it's the variant that affected him. Caused a second mutation."

Iria stopped in her tracks, an alarmed look thrown at the petite lady. "That makes no sense. None of the blood tests showed any sign of phagocytosis. And have you ever heard of an mutagenesis happening again?"

"Then it could be a chemical imbalance."

"Hold up. I've triple-checked all the charts. After his revival, there was nothing off the scale," Samson interrupted the suggestion.

"Then something happened during the questionnaire," Iria grumbled, her eyebrows squeezing down more and more of her frustration for an answer.

"Still, kinda puzzling that there was a second mutation," Victor murmured. "Even if he has the virus inside, it should have lost all its functions after a host died-I mean 'supposedly' dies. We've been keeping that t-Voo-whatever virus intact thanks to cyro."

"Also begs the question, can a host change again after being revived?"

"I wouldn't say it's far-fetched. Remember that dinosaur movie? One with DNA preserved in amber? Just think of it in that logic. The virus was preserved," the tall man explained. "Make sense that the boy just got infected a second time the moment his heartbeat returned."

"Is it really that simple? Especially after Gordon's serum."

Inside Victor's mouth, his teeth grinded at the soggy end of his toothpick. He tried an answer. "Then the serum could have manipulated the variant's DNA or something."

"Then that just contradicts our previous analysis," Katharine added. "This is becoming a totally different version than what we anticipated five years ago."

He shrugged his shoulders, scratching his head in annoyance. "As far as I'm seeing, this is acting like any other variants in this whole K-project. Unstable, unpredictable results."

Iria ran through her train of thought, deeper and deeper to come up with a hypothesis. At least something to give them common ground, a better understanding of what happened inside the kiddo's body.

... No. No good. It was stretching out at straws. Without physical results, blood analysis, dissection of an unknown virus anatomy, _anything_ , they had nothing to base their theories on.

One needed a base to start. But Iria had already decided not to prick him up with needles and scalpels like a lab rat. A used-to-be-deceased unconscious lab rat. And the director had enforced her authority: anyone outside her team couldn't touch the redhead for the sake of their curiosity and widening their pockets more.

The demands from those naggers were as monotonous as beating her head into the wall many times to dull their noise out.

"Let's say either an external or internal stimuli affected the virus to cause a second mutation. We still have the trigger to think about," she suggested. "Something happened to his body to activate it."

"Other than the little project you, Harris and Kail's been doing?" Victor asked.

Iria opened her mouth but the words didn't barely past her vocals.

Because it was a good point. The experiment, a combination of fringe and real science, was based on the foundation of bringing back the mind. Everything: memory, intelligence, awareness, all the functions zapping across the little "dead" neurons inside.

So could a resuscitated mental state indirectly cause the virus to be triggered? Sounded bizarrely impracticable.

Still, just think about it - once the mind goes, the body follows.

But…

It tightened the heartstrings inside of her uncomfortably. If that was the case…

No. Take full responsibility, she told herself. This was your idea. Your decision. Not her responsibility. Her theories were _flawless_.

She doesn't deserve the guilt nor the repercussions.

"That sounds a bit incredibly...unrealistic," Katharine spoke out before Iria could even retort. "A mental restoration experiment affecting the virus? How does that even work?"

Victor shrugged his shoulders in response. "Morphogenetic fields, retrocognition, the power of mind over body? I could go down the list and we still wouldn't know how. I'm just throwing out suggestions."

"I find it hard to believe brainwaves of a host helped boost a virus to kickstart itself."

"Though he might be onto something," Samson pointed. "This isn't that old virus anymore. This is now biologically symbolic to the host just like any variants."

"We won't know till we do any tests on him." Victor's calm eyes darted at the director - the one obstacle that was stopping any further examination.

Until she gave the ok, no hands on the redhead.

"And you want me to check how chemistry works." The stout man in white stepped away, shaking his open palms at them. "Oooh no. No way, no how am I going near that thing after what it did."

"He, Samson. He," Iria corrected calmly.

"Doesn't matter. After that whole charade, he isn't going to look at us the same. We're the bad guys here."

Yes. That was very true, Iria thought.

Put herself in his shoes...feet. He wasn't in any familiar element. He was surrounded by enemies. He didn't know what, why, how but one thing was clear. Claw out at anyone who dared get in his way. Sink his teeth hard and show no fear.

So first things first.

"Where is he?" Iria asked, her voice stern. She expected the answer. But she had to ask for confirmation and precision.

"Where else? Down at Level F," Victor replied.

She groaned heavily. Great. What a pain security was. And with that, she spun around and walked with a spring in her shoes.

"There she goes," he sighed.

"Iria, are you out of your mind! ?" Katharine hollered, her heels tapping faster as she tried to catch up.

"Yeah! He tried to hang you up like a puppet," Samson added. "He might be more dangerous than those below E."

"Don't care," Iria offed and reached her destination, immediately hitting a button.

 _Ding!_

The central elevator hummed out its arrival, the doors opening up but before Iria could put one foot it, Victor swiftly looped in front of her with one palm out.

"I don't know what you're planning but this harebrained idea you have, it's gonna put you into more danger, I," he exclaimed, an aloof but serious glance cased from his eyes. His raised hand slipped back into his lab coat pocket.

Iria grimaced at the sound of the bell ringing again and the sight of the doors closed back. But Victor stayed put. Didn't matter if she was his boss, he wouldn't let her go.

"The moment you have an agenda, you charge right into it without any care for yourself. And you're not in the best of health right now. So I'm not moving from this spot till you tell us what your plan is."

She gave her answer. "Talk to him."

Her tall colleague's stern mask quickly turned into that of disbelief.

"Talk? Just like that?"

"What else."

The silence stood still between them, in between the other sounds - the tapping of other employees' shoes scrambling down the halls, the daily chit-chats on casual and important subjects, everyone else paying no mind on the group at the lifts.

She was serious, Victor thought. Dead serious.

"Alright."

"Victor!" Katharine hollered, shaking her fists.

"Wait, I'm not done," he uttered coolly before staring back down at Iria. "The moment things go bad again, we're bailing you out. No exceptions."

Iria smiled. "I agree to the terms."

"Good." A smirk stretched across his pale face as Victor hit the button.

Of course, he was gonna tag along. But Iria didn't complain. She wheeled back to the other two. "You two should return back to work."

That was when the petite woman frowned. Angrily, in a rather cute manner if seen by other passer-bys. "No. Out of the question."

"We're already here with you so we might as well stick around longer," Samson droned.

Hearing those responses stretched out Iria's beam even further.

 _Ding!_

And the four strolled right into the elevator.

There was one thing that Iria, her three colleagues and many more have learned: either you strive for yourself or you strive in numbers.

Especially when one has been _**imprisoned**_ on an island under the hands of a powerful company for many years.

* * *

 _Ding!_

Level F, one of three danger zones. Stage II containment, where the circus of medium-risk, bloodthirsty freaks lived behind rows upon rows of tight security and ammunition.

Creatures of all sorts were locked here and further down. Half of the collection spawned from this facility's bowels, the other, hunted and brought here all thanks to the 'admired' R'n'D supervisor. Nothing more than beasts, every variety behind closed doors were yearning for freedom and blood, wafting out the strong odour of death. The only time they ever caught a glimpse of sunlight was when one or two were picked for observation and testing inside a reinforced battle arena on a near-distant speck, too small to be considered an island.

Out of the group of scientists, two gulped in different volumes while two marched forth, unhinged by their intrusion into dangerous territory.

The deeper, darker levels were no place for white coats. This was the zoo, the cells rattling with screams, howls and wails. Echoing through the halls was the scratch-scratch of their claws chipping at powerfully-durable walls under the watchful eyes of guards - both human and not - and a supercomputer.

These were the stuff of nightmares, beyond anyone's imagination after all. One slip-up inside such a place and it'd be over.

The lower floors of the facility was treacherous. At all cost, any employee had to be on guard whenever they stepped foot here. Down there, despite the many preparations and procedures on the drop of even a needle, even the careless one could have a nasty end.

This was the zoo but that didn't mean locked doors were enough to assure the two's weak hearts. Still, Samson and Katharine persuaded on, seeing the backs of their braver friends giving them some sort of courage. A poor one but they could have turned back to the lift and returned to the surface.

The stroll was quiet until the four stopped at the sight of two officers.

Good, blue-collared security guards, Iria thought. Had it be that other group, those thugs wouldn't let her go in, jousting out mockery at the 'weak little human'.

"Director McLenlan," one of the guards uttered with surprise but kept his posture firm and still. With flashes of the scientists' IDs, he acknowledged that their visit was on the papers, not stupidly unofficial. "State your business."

"I want to see him."

The two guards' eyes widened. They both quickly glanced at each other before the talkative one spoke. "Sorry, director. But orders are orders. No visitors allowed."

Iria groaned. "Of course. Odell."

"Why the heavy security?" Victor asked. "Seems redundant to be putting guards here."

"It's not just to keep people out. It's to keep an eye on that _thing_."

"I-It managed to break out of its cuffs some time ago. Even bashed down the cell's cam," his partner murmured.

"If it causes another racket, we'll be forced to put it to sleep," the guard pointed, a pat on his tranquilizer gun. "Knock that freak out for a couple of hours."

Irritating… But Iria kept that thought inside.

 _THUNK! BLAM!_

An alarming noise erupted from inside the cell, enough to stir everyone up. Banging and clanking continued straight after, as if something had just gotten back a bit of strength to tear open its prison.

"Tsk! Why won't it stay quiet! ?" the guard bellowed, raising up his rifle to ready himself in taking aim through a close-lidded opening on the door.

Then suddenly, a hand lashed onto the barrel.

"Hey. What are you-?"

His words dropped dead silent once he wheeled back. What he saw nearly shook his body to step back, swallowing down a lump that wasn't in his throat a while ago.

A cold and angry glare from those hazel eyes.

Out of the four white coats, Iria had stepped forth, her hand tight on his gun. Forcefully, she jerked the weapon's point towards the floor, eyes still hawking on the shocked officer. All he could do was wonder: why was she so angry at him doing his job?

Iria didn't budge an inch, even when the noises inside died down - the owner probably laying back in exhaustion from his tantrums. The next thing to come out of her mouth was this.

"Fine. You two are dismissed."

Now both guards' eyes were as wide as dinner plates. But the director didn't care.

"And in the meantime, tell Odell no one but me and my team is allowed to touch him. Understand?" She then pushed the guard back, a hard shoving of his gun.

"Are you out of your mind? We can't let you-"

Her pose was as firm as a tree, feet rooted in her spot. All the signs read "test her, go for it" from her expression.

"Take them as your new orders or detain me. Your choice."

And those final words silenced the men up, rattling nervously in their boots.

Their minds, no doubt, was swimming at what outcomes would happen onto them. Truthfully, Iria would never resort in misusing her position to crush others - in fact, she knew well enough these men were doing their job just as she was doing hers, for the sake of a check and survival. Her status was nothing but a title, the only good thing out of it was that she was untouchable within the ranks.

Only if push came to shove would she become drastic in her actions.

With no way of zipping past her tongue-sharp remark, the two guards submitted to defeat and stepped aside from the doors. Ah, so they'll stay. Doesn't matter as long as they don't get in my way.

"Are you sure about this?" Samson's voice drenched in concern drew her away from the cell door. "M-Maybe one of us should come with you."

She shook her head. "More people will aggravate him. I have to do this." Her hand snaked up to a lanyard-tied ID around her neck and slipped it off of her. "If we leave him alone, he might very well detach his human side and go savage on everyone again… He can't lose his second chance."

Her colleagues, comrades-in-arms, didn't retaliate against her level-headed argument.

"He's only a kid. He needs to know we aren't his enemy."

Iria swung down her card across the ID reader. The door didn't open immediately at the summoning of the green little light but after a few more steps.

"Input password," the computerized feminine voice that once hollered from everywhere and nowhere, echoed out from the scanner as well.

"McLenlan. Number S24D1-45O5 X-3781. Password, 91NN19."

"Voice recognition acknowledged."

A hissing click resonated and the cell door slid open.

"I," Victor called out, stopping her just a second step into the cell. "Be careful in there."

Iria gave a promising smile and with a swallowing down of the tightness in her chest, sauntered forward - the door shutting her only escape out of the 6-by-6 room.

Then the tightness crept back once she took a hard good look at the interior of the room.

Damage left and right, on the ceiling and the floor. A good thrusting and beating against the toughest material a cell for an infected for offer, showing dents and cracks everywhere. If she had turned to see the state of the door, no doubt it was looking like near its limit of staying at its hinges.

But she stood stern with narrowed eyes, rolling her hands into tight fists for an extra surge of courage.

The red eyes of the giant green monster was glaring fixed on the director.

Hutting and puffing through a muzzled-like device around his mouth, he sat on the cold floor in durable handcuffs drenched in sweat. From the interior, he had exceeded all his strength to bust out an escape in vain and was taking his second or third break. The only thing that easily trampled down by his might was the smashed up surveillance camera, pulled out from the little hole in the ceiling.

He had every reason to oppose. Especially with the tag and brand on his neck. Somewhere along the way in his detainment, he was leashed with a collar - the equivalent of a dog's shock collar with the difference being stretchable for the bulk but only removable by the facility's system. A final measure was the raw, scorched numbers across his skin from the stabbing of heated iron.

Now there was this intruder with him and in a white coat at that.

Those red eyes squinted even more in exhausted anger at his visitor.

Yup, he remembered her. But Iria stood her grounds at the hostility. Remarkably, she didn't feel as terrified towards him as that towards her...past experiences. Maybe that was because of her constant reminding to herself this was still a kid in the head.

There was nothing but a staring contest. Who'd win?

She didn't want to start off too soon. It wasn't going to be merry and easy at gaining his trust on the first word of conversation. In fact, she was well prepared for his rebuttal. However, during the staredown, she could see him eyeing.

At her left arm.

If one looked at the sea of employees and employers that worked inside the facility, she would easily be picked out from the lot. A fresh glance at the blue-black exaggerated tattoo stretching from her wrist upwards to her shoulder - half of the design hidden underneath her rolled-up sleeve - and the first thought was 'convict'.

To everyone else, no one could understand the riddling illustrations and their meanings enfolding and twisting together. Not even understand why one day, she decided to ruin her left arm with such a large and indescribably-obscure permanent image.

Some thought it was rebellious phase towards their imprisonment. Others, a visible reminder of that one fateful day.

To the boy monster, a person with more reasons not to trust.

Not good. Moreover, Iria was unsure. Right before her wasn't the boy back on the medical bed going through his mental test. Iria was hesitant - there could be a chance this sudden mutation had taken away all of his intelligence and memory retention like any infected specimen.

A tug at her chest… Did that mean the experiment turned into a failure thanks to the virus?

Iria must have shown something, a sign of her guard dropped. Because suddenly, the monster leapt up and charged, his roar muffled down by his muzzle.

In the seconds and shrinking space between them, Iria froze up. By instinct, her fingers ran back to her holstered taser gun but that would surely not be fast enough. Already, he was preparing to use his handcuffed hands as a bat to smack her out of existence.

"Commence cell protocol," uttered a third voice.

A rising electrical sound hummed in the air. Right before her eyes, live electricity burst out at the strike of the monster's pitch. Voltage zipped right into him, low enough to pinch at his pain sensitivity as a warning.

Quickly, the frog-like brute jumped back, recoiling in agony.

"Hostile infected attack confirmed. Director McLenlan, for your own safety, please exit out of Cell 319."

Of course, the employees' 'guardian angel' from above.

Iria, however, didn't move. Her surprise and terror morphed down to worry at the cowering monster. If there wasn't the fence, she'd unconsciously hurry up towards him before stopping. Yes, she was crazy enough to do that. In his restraints, all he could do was bear down on the aftereffects of his mild passing shock.

Then she heard a muffle.

She could have sworn she heard some words. Something like "Fucking hurts…"

That was the clue she needed. No, the experiment worked.

Alright. Let's test this, she told herself.

"GAIAN, turn off Cell 319 fence system."

The monster glanced up at her. Immediate surprise.

"Director McLenlan, it would be ill-advised to turn off safety measures. Please exit out-"

"Turn them off."

Now he cast another glare, but this time there was visible uncertainty. Cautioness. She could already guess his quiet question - what was she doing?

"Please reconsider. If you are suffering from suicidal tendencies, it would be best to visit a psychologist."

An insult, a nice dab of salt on her old wounds, reopening them. Inside her fists, her nails dug harder.

Oh sure. Try the _fucking_ mental illness tactic all because of that _**bastard**_ inputted that into its data bank.

"Turn them off now. That is an order," she hissed, her teeth grounding on the last word.

There was a slight pause. How odd for an AI. "Order acknowledged."

The dancing rays of electricity shriveled up, the only obstacle standing between them gone.

And the strange woman stood still.

The staredown came back but there was something strange about this.

Steve Burnside was puzzled. Yes. He was puzzled. What was this woman scheming…?

Well, should be obvious! He was struck in some secret lab by Umbrella as a test subject, as their little labrat. Whatever she was trying to do, there was no way he'd give in that easily.

She couldn't be trusted.

No one here could be trusted.

But he just couldn't help but wonder. This was some hotshot, a director even, waltzing in on some random guy.

Unless she was here for payback. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

He hadn't forgotten. He had exploded out of rage and confusion, giving a hard time to those people with guns from start to now. Why or how that happened, he wasn't quite sure the answers. All he remembered was he grabbed at the closest thing to let out his frustration and a short later, he found that woman terrified of him from his outburst.

He gave a mental laugh. Such chivalry she had, trying to stand up against someone like him. What was more, this was a blonde. She might as well be that _**bitch**_ then if that was the case. A deluded, insane scientist but the only difference was she wasn't in any gowns like that fucking sicko.

And it wasn't just how alike this woman was to that other one. Not too alike but still somewhat. It was also because he poured out everything about himself onto her without knowing the truth.

He couldn't help but feel dirty and naked at that fact.

But right now, Steve could do nothing but try to stare her out of his cell. Or at least, get over with whatever she wanted to do with him. The faster it was done, the better.

He wanted all of this to be over...

Then, without warning, her hands grabbed onto her holster belt and unclipped it off.

 _Thud_ , the strange gun, the belt, all of it plopped down to the floor.

His head bobbed up, startled. What?

"GAIAN, deactivate handcuffs and muzzle."

"Affirmative," the computerized voice echoed from a ceiling absent of speakers.

 _Click! Click!_

The cramp feeling around his wrists and face was gone as the gadgets dropped onto the floor with loud clunks resounding inside the cell.

His mouth fell ajar and he stared down at his red-ringed hands. He was out of those miserable-!

He felt his insides turn icy cold at the sight.

His horrible green claws…

He felt his stomach turn into knots, all too revolted to see what the rest of his body looked like. He had some ideas but abandoned them, too aghast to put them to the test. He had desperately wanted to tear the green skin off to see it as some prank - if his cuffs were blocking his attempts. As much as he wanted to remove this hideous form from him entirely...deep down, he knew that was impossible.

Then his claws curled up into fists as he grounded his fangs angrily at a memory.

That bitch. That fucking bitch. And he couldn't forget her name as much as he wanted to. Alexia Ashford. This was all her entire fault! Thanks to her, he was a monster again and stuck in whatever this place was.

Hope she's barbecuing in hell, he hollered to himself. It's no wonder Claire was so terrified of him back in Antarctica. If he had seen his reflection right now, he would be scared out of his own green sk-!

Claire.

The name rung as clear as a crystal in his mind and his heart sank. Oh god. He really hoped she made it out of that place with her brother.

Did they? No, they did. Yeah, don't think of stupid things. She's safe somewhere and that's all that matter.

He had bigger problems right now. One in front of him.

He glanced up hastily, once realizing his silence had exposed him at his weakest. Was this some twisted trick to see him squirm at the reality?

But the woman had stood there motionless and quiet during his thinking. Not an inch. The weapon was still on the floor but she showed no interest in retrieving it. Her expression was just unreadable and that was pissing him off. But he didn't retaliate this time with force. No telling what that voice from above could do towards his given moment of freedom.

Get on with whatever you're doing to do! He wanted to yell. Just move already!

Nothing.

Then she made her next move.

"I'm going to continue the questionnaire."

That...was unexpected. He stared at her in complete astonishment. But no matter how long he kept glancing, she didn't budge.

The blonde simply slouched back to the wall behind her, her hands in her pockets. This...was a very nonchalant, amateurish pose she was giving.

"You don't have to answer them if you don't want to."

Fair enough, he might as well do just that.

"After you've answered all my questions, then I'll answer all of yours."

He frowned. Dammit. So that was the catch. Right now, he wanted information. Needed to know everything he could get.

Given the situation, he could easily squeeze all the answers out of her without so much of answering back. He was free. She was unarmed. No, bad idea. There was that other voice watching them somewhere. Or maybe he should hold her hostage?

Perhaps she purposely came here to set up her own death by his hands. After all, that voice did just say suicidal tendencies. Great, that meant he was visited by a loonie with depression problems. He wasn't going to give her satisfaction then. Do it herself instead.

One more glance at her expression: calm, patient, collected. Nothing of a crazed madwoman or an overly-depressed soul.

...Weird woman.

Fine. For now, he'd play along. See where this would go.

She spoke out regardless of a yes or no from him. "Whose face is on a dime?"

He raised an eyebrow.

Ok, what? Seriously? She was asking that? Shouldn't she know the answer herself?

The woman just waited. Her face told him oh, she was serious.

What a hassle. Fine.

"...Rrroose-" He stopped, a hand immediately clamping his mouth.

That tone, it sent shivers down his spine. Was that his voice? Geesuz, he sounded so different.

He didn't want to continue. If he heard it one more time, then that would set everything in stone. He'd have to face the cruel truth.

That wasn't him, he told himself. That was someone else, somewhere in this cell but it wasn't him! But in the hushed two minutes, the denial was sinking away when that foreign voice didn't speak up again.

He glanced up to the woman, hoping that the voice was from some recorder, played as a joke but the absence of a tape recorder told him to stop wasting time and accept his ordeal.

Funny though, she didn't frightenedly jump from his distorted voice. She hadn't steered from her spot, only waiting patiently for his reply.

He swallowed in a lump stuck in his throat. "R-Rrroosevelt."

This was his voice… No recording. No third monster with them. Get used to it, he sarcastically and cruelly told himself.

She nodded, acknowledging his correct answer. "How many states are there in the United States?"

Really?

"...Fifty." There was some difficulty at remembering the exact number.

"On a traffic light, is the green light at the top or bottom?"

Ok, what the fuck. These sounded like trivia questions that some of his annoying high school teachers would randomly ask just to see if he was listening instead of snoozing.

This was getting annoying. "Bottom."

"In which hand does the Statue of Liberty holds her torch?"

He grumbled quietly to himself. "I dooon't know. Rrright?"

She nodded. Phew, that was just a guess too… Wait, why was he relieved? He wasn't back in class!

How long was this pointless questioning going to take?

"What are you most afraid of?"

That question caught him off guard. Ok, no more random things. Now it was getting personal.

There was one thing he'd never admit, even when he was alive. Being afraid. No, he wasn't scared of the dark - he outgrew that when he was ten - and he wasn't afraid of things like height and bugs.

Being scared of things was just hateful. That just meant he was showing his weaknesses and that was the welcoming wagon to be picked and poked at.

But that was when he was a normal teenager in the middle of high school. Then he was tossed into a bloodied world of the undead and guns, desperately running for his _first_ dear life. Did that apply to himself now?

Another gaze at his hands sparked up something dread inside of him. Like wriggling maggots under the skin. He did have something to fear inside his grey box. One of the bitter memories showed how capable he was in this form.

He nearly killed Claire.

"...Myseeelf."

Now it was her time to be surprised. Then those raised eyebrows lowered as she cast a strange look that he didn't expect her to give.

Like she understood.

"Have you lost a family member?"

She first received an annoyed glare. This was uncharted territory she was touching and he didn't like it.

The word, family, dug up more painful memories. He really wished she had never asked.

His mom, shot cold dead in the living room by men in black. She never saw it coming. But he did, seeing the flying of red droplets from the hole in the back of her head.

And there was his dad.

There was an irkling of spite rising up in his mouth. The whole ordeal that happened on the unlucky redhead was because of that jackass in the first place. But as the recollection flashed through like a fast-forwarded film, the last confrontation he had with him gave him a bittersweet sting.

His dad was gone too.

This time, he nodded instead of answering back to the blonde. A light bite on his lips and he found himself muttering, "Twice."

He gave a quick glance, regretting his absentminded utter but she didn't rebuff it.

Instead, she was rather sorrowful.

"I'm sorry…" She began fidgeting with a brown leather watch on her right wrist. "...I know the feeling."

Steve almost wanted to scorn, gruff at her for saying that. He didn't need sympathy from her! But he stopped himself when her attention was absolutely on the worn watch, the glass len broken. Twirl, twirling on the little screw as if she was trying to reset time and go back.

Fix something in the past. But that was impossible.

A little bit of pity he had on her. Just this once. After all, he had no idea if this person had family like he did.

Or this was just an act, stupid. Don't fall for it so easily.

Inhale, exhale. The blonde gave a very deep breath to clear away the bitterness, the professional face back on track.

"What was the last memory you remember?"

The next question made him think. It was hard, grasping through the few holes he had in his brain but the memory was there.

Right, he remembered now. A hand reached down to where that giant tentacle pierced him. There was no hole but regardless if he looked, he knew the evidence was there.

"...I dieeed."

It stung. Badly.

He died, all because he resisted that bitch's command to kill. All because he didn't want to kill Claire.

And he was left behind. Now he was stuck here, revived and back as a monster.

The only difference was...Claire wasn't here, was she?

She wasn't coming.

"I dieeed...after I was turned..."

He sunk his head. Please, he begged. He just wanted this to be over. Enough. He had accepted his death when he was dying and this was some cruel joke. A sick one, going through dark memories he wanted to forget and be buried.

All of that was in the past. And he was miserably stuck here and now.

"You mean after you saved that girl."

What? He quickly gazed back at the woman. What did she say?

The woman didn't give out an explanation. It was only then did he notice her expression had changed.

She looked...sad and...contented at the same time.

"Good."

It was so soft, seeping out of the woman's mouth but for some reason, he could hear it clear. Why was she so pleased about? Those last questions were kinda tossing insult to injury-

All of a sudden, her body slumped downwards as if the energy from her legs was drained out. Like a realization hit her as hard as a brick wall. She buried her head into her knees to quench down some internal battle inside, her arms just fraying out in the air.

"Good," was all she could muster out of her small body. "...You have them. All your thoughts, your memory, everything... You're human."

Human.

He wasn't too sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. The word had a bittersweetness to it, giving a squeeze to his stomach. Maybe he should feel a bit honored. This person was deeming him human, even holding a conversation with him. Which, actually, he'd say she had have lost a few screws in thinking that.

Whether or not, he should be thankful for that remark...could he really be called so?

He thought like a human. He remembered like a human. He was dealing with a shitload of emotions like a human.

But...he was still a monster.

What a grey conflict he had…

"Oh god…"

He drew his attention back on the woman.

"It worked, Carme…"

Okkk, what did she say? What worked?

And who's Carme?

The blonde lifted up her head, deeply breathing in. Surprisingly, her eyes were wet but with some fighting, she kept the waterworks in.

But he saw it… A grown woman was going to cry.

"Last question," she barked. This time, her tone resounded with steel resolve. She no longer gave the calm composure, like she was ready for anything to come out on this next turn. "Right now, this is your second chance in life."

He widened his eyes.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"...Do?"

The words, second chance, were like needles to his ears.

 _ **This**_ is a second chance?

Him being grotesque and fucked-up? Him as a prisoner, a caged up animal?

What did she expect him to do? Was she trying to tick him off? Because it certainly was working!

You already know the answer to that! I'm the fucking guinea pig here!

"Why arrre you asking me a stupid question?" he hissed and then his red eyes hawked angrily at her. "You'rrre one of them."

This time, the woman in white gave a confused face. Bullshit. She was obviously faking it!

"ANSWER ME!"

 _BAM!_ His fist swung right at the wall behind him, adding another crater to the collection.

She remained unshaken. No! She was shaking in her shoes! That damn coward!

"That's the only reason why I'm here!" he hollered. "You sickos brought me back to be your toy and you got to gall to ask me that? You're afteeer what's inside of me! Ssstop joking around, you bitch!"

"That's not the right answer."

The comeback pulled the rug from under his feet unexpectedly. Her glare deepened with disappointment at his outburst - like that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

Right answer? What answer do you want, woman! ?

"What are you going to do with your second chance?" she demanded again.

One eyebrow raised and the other furrowed. Just how many times was she going to spin him in circles? What motive did she have for stupidly asking that?

What he wanted to do with his second chance?

Get out of here and go see Claire, of course! Tell her he was alive again! Then they could be together again, continue where they left off.

Tell her everything's going to be alright from now on.

But that was wishful thinking. He wasn't an optimist.

There was no way he could see her again, not like this.

"What does it matterrr?" he managed to cough, the lump in his throat gargling his voice. "I'm a damn frrreak! A monster… I never asked for thisss!"

The anger in the woman's face wrinkled more but Steve didn't care.

"You should have left meee for dead…"

His talons gripped hard onto his hair as he lowered his head again. His eyes felt moisture at the suffocating emotions inside of him.

Just stop it. He actually wished he was just brainless now. Then, he wouldn't have to deal with all this shit. But again, he was stuck in a body that wasn't his own and a mind that was.

No way in hell was he going to go up to Claire like this. She should remember him the way he was before, right to his death. Not this.

"Fine."

The woman climbed onto her feet, her hand taking out a weird-looking black gun during her ascent.

"Call yourself a freak."

Steve trembled a little on the floor. This sudden change actually frightened him. Somewhere in the back of his head, someone was whispering him to fight back, pick her up and pitch her into the wall. She was just a fly, said the dark muttering.

This time, however, he showed no resistance to fight back. What was the point of continuing this new life?

Like he said, he should have been left dead and stayed dead.

"Keep saying that you shouldn't be alive."

The nightmare should end right now.

"But know this," she began and lifted her Taser up high.

 _BAM!_

"Ow! Gaaargh!" Steve whined, his hands quickly contacting to a throbbing sore zapping across his skull from one point of origin. He couldn't believe she used the handle of her own firearm as a baton instead of shooting.

He glared back up, ready to roar at her and return fire but froze up on the spot in bewilderment.

"All I see is a scared kid in front of me!" Iria screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her temper was like the wrath of a storm, her fuming words dumbfounding him even more. He had pissed off the four-eyed blonde.

"That girl's name was Claire, wasn't it?"

His red eyes filleted even wider.

"You said Claire back in medbay! Her name's Claire, right?" she demanded again.

He furrowed angrily. "If you darrre hurt her-"

"Why would I want a person I don't know! ?" she barked, again surprising him that he nearly shook in his spot. What did he do? "She matters to _**you**_ , right? So your second chance should be to meet her again and tell her you're here, you brainless idiot!"

He gaped silently, taking all of the verbal abuse from her. But certain words hit the nail on the coffin.

"Listen to me, you damn brat! Out of everyone else on this messed-up island, you're the only one who has someone out there that's important to you, out there somewhere!" she continued, jabbing a finger out in the air as if pointing to something, someone very far away. "You're important in someone else's life and you want to throw it all away! ? You're alive and sane! You are not some specimen, you are important as a person!" Iria screamed with all her might. "So like hell am I going to let you give up this second chance of yours!"

This was all baffling to him, even a little scary. He was so taken aback by that outspoken speech that he felt himself trying to sink further into the wall.

Frankly, he felt like a child being scolded.

"You don't get to go off that easily! I'll be damned if I'm letting you give up on her now!"

No. No way. This was fake. Why make him feel important? Important to someone she didn't know? The only thing good about him was the damn virus, wasn't it! ?

"Y-You'rrre...this is all just a ruse."

She grounded her teeth crossly. Up went the taser hilt.

 _BAM!_

"GARH!" he bawled. "Would you stop doing that! ?"

" _ **Just**_ a ruse? All this is a damned _**ruse**_! ?" was all she could holler. Her temperance had no bounds in stopping. "I wouldn't be wasting my time here talking to you then! I wouldn't be giving a damn about you throwing everything out of the window right now! My colleagues should have just flat out refused me if all of this was just charades! Everything I've done up till now means it was all pointless if this was _**just**_ a ruse!"

"S-Shut up," he managed to rebel. "You got balls trying to get me to trrrust! Why would you even care about me? Look at me!" He waved out his arms, presenting himself as the obvious fact. "What do you want from me! ?"

"I want you to fight! For yourself and the person you care for!"

Those words deflated his boiling emotions in an instant. He was sure what his ears heard was wrong. He couldn't comprehend it all. The more her frustration burst out, the more convinced he was that this wasn't some act.

Not when she was shaking her fists like that.

He was actually more afraid of provoking this woman for another whack on his head. Funny if anyone saw this. A big giant green brute scared of this.

"You expect me to be the mad, evil scientist. Put you on the slab and open you up. Fine! Think whatever you want about me. Hate me. Yell at me all you want. You can do whatever you want with me. But I'm going to take you to see that girl again whether you like it or not! Hell, I'll recite the whole damn Beauty and the Beast story if I have to!"

Why...? The word didn't even seep out of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

This woman was insane.

This all was just an act to get him to drop his guard.

No way was she asking to be buddies, feel remorseful for the likes of him. No way was she trying to make him, a freak, feel important. No way was he still important to Claire.

But it was becoming more and more of a struggle to believe those statements in his head.

"You have someone out there. But we don't…"

At last, she calmed down, the shouting wearing her out. Slightly. But once again, the words out of her shook him to the core.

This time, her face soured with agony.

"Everyone on this island...there's no one out there waiting for us anymore... "

Anymore?

It was just more confusion piling on top of him. He knew jackshit about this woman.

"I'm the one who brought you back to life," she continued. "I chose to bring back a person named Steve so he could get the one thing all of us have lost. A second chance in life."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. That couldn't be her reason. That sounded all too much of some cliche trope in a fairytale - a fairy godmother suddenly appears to grant a wish to the poor cleaner girl.

But the twisting of her face, the light wetness in her eyes, it was just...pitiful to watch this on a grown-up.

"Don't lose it like we did."

It was a plead. An honest to God request from her.

He hadn't noticed it before until only then. The clothes she wore, the wavy hair she lazily tied up were disheveled. The bags under her eyes were the tall tale that she had endured many sleepless nights, one more reason why one of many marbles were dropped out of her to do such a daring scolding at him. This thirty-ish-year-old woman looked like she had lost a decade of her life by something very dark and destructive.

This was a director, right? He asked that for confirmation. His picture of how a director should look like was a middle-aged or old white man dressed in a clean suit and drenched in thick cologne, his pockets filled with cash and his hands untouched on drastic matters. All a director had to do was oversee whatever they did in this place and make sure their work ran smoothly.

The blonde was the complete opposite.

Something happened to this woman. Something she regretted. There was no way she could get what she had lost back. Just like him - the old "him" was dead and gone.

He was now puzzled. She was making so more effort, persisting him to take her hand easily that he had to know. Nobody was this determined to want to help a stranger, a monster too. Any reason why someone helped another was for something in return.

But he kept quiet. Whatever wounds or scars she had, he had no reason to poke them open.

She lifted her head up, shoving away her moment of disarray.

"You can give me the cold shoulder or pretend I don't exist. But I won't stop until I get you two reunited. Even finding a cure to whatever this mutation is, if I have to."

The one magic word. Cure. It rang a pleasant, encouraging sound to his sensitive ears, pinching at the thought that he could be normal again.

No.

He sunk back. That was just delusional talking.

Don't give me meaning. Don't give me a reason to fight.

Don't make it hopeful only to make me crash down hard…

"Would you stop sulking off! ?"

He snapped back up, like a middle-schooler waking up from the whacking of the ruler on his desk.

"I've made up my mind a long time ago. This was my decision and you don't get to back out of it," she debated. "It's far too early to call it quits."

Awestruck. That was one of many words he could describe how he was feeling. Steve Burnside was astonished, amazed, in disbelief. He had taken every bit of her heated words as she stood boldly in the middle of the cell. Like her previous internal dilemma gave her the boot to charge into anything dangerous.

Oddly enough...she reminded him a bit of Claire. One could say she was like an older version of her.

The silence between them just seemed to irritate the stranger even more as she huffed out a breath. She was getting frustrated that this conversation was going in circles, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Seriously, you have no idea what my colleagues and I have done. The number of regulations we've crossed, our own resources from our own pockets, the excuses I've given to those nosy gits high up, our necks on the line? Heck, we have families-"

He couldn't help but ask.

"Why…?"

She ceased her rambling and gazed down at the baffled specimen.

"Why do all that?" he hoarsely asked.

He looked at her with a dejected, confused face. He still couldn't understand her.

"Don't I frighteeen you?"

The question didn't at all surprise her or anger her further. The wrinkles from her fury were swept off her face.

"Kiddo. You don't scare me one bit," she rasped. "Because I know what it's like to be a monster…"

Another surprise package that drew out a very inaudible gasp from the insides of the green brute.

A monster? No matter how anyone looked at her, from top to bottom, she was human. So had it been five minutes ago, he'd probably laugh maniacally at her statement.

But there was no regret in admitting those fighting words from her, just a tiny hint of remorse, tiredness. It was something like seeing a war veteran trying to brush his stories off with a light heart but written on his face, the truth still lingered.

Some dark secrets he kept buried even to his death. A painful choice that he was forced to make.

He knew such a person. His maternal grandfather, served in the late years of World War II. Passed away six years before his family kidnapping. There wasn't much worthwhile that Steve could pull out from his memories to describe him. But he remembered the concealing struggle the old man had.

Whatever the blonde did, it stained her hands and she had carried it on her shoulders just as his grandfather had. With that, he recapped back the definitions of the word, monster.

Didn't only mean looking hideous outside but inside as well.

Geezus. Just how dark was this woman's past? But he got it… He gradually understood.

"...You'rrre absolutely crazy to be caring for a mindless freak like me."

"Would you knock it off! ?" she snapped, her calm demeanor changing back to her furious wrath. Oh, she was getting real tired of his pessimistic attitude.

He really wanted to beg her to stop scolding him.

"Tell me right now who has called you that. Certainly not from me! And how exactly are you mindless when you're particularly talking to me? Exactly where's the line of talking as a monster or as a person, hm?" she hollered through grinded teeth.

"...B-Buuut-"

She groaned irritably at his ceasing doubt. "No but!"

He flinched in his seat by her tone. It definitely felt like he was back in school all over again. She was worse than Mrs. Amherst.

It took a while for the 'mad scientist' to calm down. Longer than expected as she slowly recovered from all her worked-up yelling. He swore he spotted a blood vessel pop open.

"Anyone in this facility would disregard you as being human and experiment on you without hesitation," she explained honestly. The one thing he wanted to hear from her own mouth. "There's no denying it. I'm the villain here. But if that was my goal all along, then I wouldn't have given you your mind back. I wouldn't be talking to you now, would I? You could have just never spoken at all."

The woman miserably downcasted her gaze to the floor.

"And if that's the case, then I have no right to be human anymore. Not when I see you as _yourself_. You existing as yourself...I can't pretend like it's nothing."

She said that as if matter of fact. What she was seeing, experiencing inside this cell was proof. It was concrete evidence. It was physical, real and there was no way she could deny it.

Why was she so open about this? It just didn't make any sense to him.

Maybe she was just sick and tired of keeping an act as the diligent, cold-hearted boss. Lying, hurting others, taking others' advantages as her own to help her rise higher, the list could be long and he was just coming up with what drastic actions she took. But the sins were heavy on her shoulders to the point of crushing her.

All just assumptions, especially when he was the - probably - the prizeworthy sample having a strange conversation with this human wearing that accursed laboratory coat. But this didn't look like acting anymore.

"All I want is to be a human to you, not a monster. So shouldn't it be the same for you, kiddo?"

Silence conquered the cell for a while longer. She simply kept quiet, having said all of her peace, and thus, patiently waited for his answer.

What was it he wanted?

Human.

He thought as a human. He talked as a human. He felt as a human.

Be treated as a human, cared as a human. Hurt as a human.

He was born a human, died a human. So this second time round, he still wanted to be human.

"So are you going to fight or keep brooding?"

The question pricked at his urge to shake his head, which he gradually did. No. Enough complaining. He wanted to fight.

I want to see you again, Claire, he thought. So I'll endure a little longer...

"I'll fight…" Steve replied with much struggle in his voice. "I'll fight… Would look uncool ifff I didn't give it my all without even trrying."

And then surprisingly, the blond-haired director smiled at his reply. It was a gentle one, warm. That was the answer she was waiting for, the right one that he wouldn't turn back and regret on.

It had an impressive effect on him...because he no longer felt a terrible ache since he woke up in the cell.

He was alone. He had always been alone, looking out for only himself. Because he had grown up learning that all adults were liars, backstabbers. If anything, he could only rely on guns not to betray him when he was back on Rockfort Island.

Before all the talk, he had already decided. He was alone to fend for himself, no one was going to come rescue him.

Now...he didn't feel lonely.

That made him stretch out a trembling smile.

"You arrre...a weirrd woman…"

Iria sighed but still kept her smile. "Yeah. A lot of people tell me that."

He uttered a soft chuckle at her response. Then that chuckle was drowned by the chattering of his teeth. He felt something wet stream down his face that he quickly covered it with a disfigured hand - a desperate attempt to hide his dignity.

Yes, he was crying.

Shameful. God dammit, you're not a kid anymore.

It couldn't be helped. The battle in pushing down most of his emotions had been worn down by the conversation and the blended cocktail of contentment, distress and amusement won over his emotional restraint. He was cheered up and yet he still quivered on the floor, laughing terribly at himself.

He was going to be fine. Maybe not in the long run but did that matter now?

He barely noticed the blonde's presence near closely to him as she pulled handkerchief from her pocket. "Really, kid. You don't have to hold it in and be all tough guy, you know?" She squatted down, eye to eye level and began wiping the tears from his cheek. "Sometimes it's alright to let it go."

It was a rather strange notion, as his head arched back from her attempt. But she wasn't thrown off by the jerk and went on to wiping. Not like a dab-dab or a circling motion. But like how a parent would do to their crying child.

She was an aunt after all. If anything, this kiddo was bawling out like how Randy or Hannah would do when they were children.

The director then furrowed her eyes out of shallow disgust, now that she was much closer to the burned markings on his neck. The smell of roasted skin was faint but it was present regardless.

0267\. Permanent.

She knew who the culprit was. HCF.

Bastards. She wished she could have known and stopped them, seeing a few more bruises and lashes across his body. Within the one hour of his custody, the thugs had battered up their cattle prods at him to make him obedient.

"They did a number on you."

One large claw shamefully latched over the raw burns. Don't remind me of it, he thought to himself.

"I'm not a child," he groaned, pushing her hands away. This was embarrassing.

"Too late. I've been calling you kiddo since you were brought here and I'm not stopping," she exclaimed but proceeded to give him the handkerchief, which with some hesitation, he took it. "Alright. Now that this whole thing is behind us, how about moving you to a better room? One without guns and the creepy computer watching you. And while we're at it, we might as well find something better than those torn garments."

Awkwardly, Steve shot a glimpse downwards. He was bound to see his body anyway, now noting the grotesqueness and sharp appendages that shouldn't be there protruding from his chest.

Then there was the blue shreds on him. How little he had on him brought a very dull and unnoticeable brownish flush across his face The only thankful thing saving his modesty was the ripped and shortened pants that miraculously held against his own titan build.

Thank god he wasn't in his birthday suit as a monster...

"After that, I'll go ask the cafeteria to cook up something good. Trust me, the food they feed down here aren't appetising. Then again...neither is the cafeteria food."

A chuckle. Good, he found it humorous and she liked it that way.

"First things first."

The director reached up to her hair tie and slipped it off. Before he could react, her fingers was already brushing up his long fringe from his eyes, streaming up to the back of his head.

"H-Hey, wh-?" Ok, this was getting into his comfort zone!

It went all too fast for him to push her away. Swiftly, she ringed the hair tie around his hair into a small ponytail before backing away.

What was she? His mom? Stop it. But he didn't say those words.

"There. Better?"

He didn't answer straight away. Truthfully, it was. He hadn't realised how long and overgrown his hair had become. How long was he out?

But before he could push out his answer after a delay, he caught a glimpse of her neck. His face curled up at the sight of her bandages.

He never noticed them until she was up close. Where did she-?

"D-Did I...do thaaat to you…?"

He bit down his lower lip so hard that he tasted the iron. He remembered now, the fear and terror in hazel eyes. The closest thing he had grabbed hold back at the medical bay in a fit of bloodthirsty rage.

He nearly strangled her.

"I-I'm sorry," he apologised and sunk his head down, wishing for the floor to give way and eat him up.. "I'm sooo sorry."

Oh god… He did it again, didn't he? He let loose the monster.

If the wall behind him wasn't there, he'd keep himself away from her - sadly he was cornered with no way to disappear and the woman blocking his way. But he should keep his distance-

"What are you apologising for?"

How many surprises was she keeping under her belt? He lifted up his head to see the annoyed look on her, her arms folded on her knees.

"...Forrr hurrting you."

All she gave was a "what the fuck" expression.

"W-What the hell is that face fooor?" he yelled, hunching further back.

"Rather stupid of you to feel guilty over that," she rebuffed.

"B-Buuut-"

"You had a reason." The sentence immediately stopped his blabbering. "We had you strapped down to the bed all because the old gits were too chicken of you going commando. We're the enemy here. Of course, you were scared and angry so you did what anyone would do."

Really? Picking them up like a toy and wringing their neck when you were a giant… No human would have done that.

"Fight-or-flight response."

What? The statement rose him up from his whirling guilt.

"It's a natural mechanic that all living things have. A physiological reaction in response to a harmful event, a threat to one's own survival. That's what you did to a threat towards your survival."

Did she really give an explanation to justify his actions? She got hurt thanks to his damn reaction!

But from her expression, she was headstrong on pledging the science as foundation. Science had always prove her right and she never faltered from it.

"I would have done the same thing if I was in your shoes. And I deserved it," she added. "I withheld information from you. I kept things under rap like your revival, this location. Everything. Kiddo, I didn't give you answers so I was just asking for punishment."

His mouth widened out but nothing crept out. He wanted to protest but what she said was the truth.

He was so terrified back then. He didn't know where he was, what was happening and his constricts made it worse on his delirious, confused mind.

But that didn't mean his action could be pardoned. No way could he let it go scot-free.

"I could have-"

"You didn't," Iria cut in. "I'm still here, breathing. That's all that matters."

It didn't make him feel any better. But not worst as well.

But he was still unable to look at her straight after what he had done…

"Hey."

He felt a light tap, very light that only small sparks of pain danced across his sore scalp, causing him to look up. There was a frown on her face, reading, "what's past is past. So stop it, kid." She had indeed taken her taser's grip again but this time, to snap him out of his guilt.

"Let's start over," she suggested. "We had a rough start earlier. It'd be good if we reintroduce ourselves and forget the past. How does that sound?"

He blinked several times before he nodded. "Yeah… I'd likeee that."

"Good. Though, kinda defeats the purpose since already know your name. But. It's a pleasure meeting you, Steve."

A soft bream stretched across his face. "Likewise. So...should I call you Directorrr then?"

"Too long and too repetitive," she booed, offensively and lightly knocking the grip at his forehead. "I've already got too many people calling me that that I'm sick to death hearing it."

He rubbed his forehead, amused by her casual attitude. She was indeed a curious character that proved him so wrong on his earlier accusations on her.

She was weird, terrifying, loud, invasive...tolerant, honest and kind.

This was someone trustworthy.

He was going to be alright.

"How about Doc then?"

She narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. "Seriously?" A heavy sigh of defeat crept out from her mouth. Didn't give much fight. "Whatever you want. I've been calling you kiddo nonstop."

Good. If she wasn't gonna stop calling him kiddo, then she was stuck with Doc.

The blonde then shone out a warm grin.

"You can call me Iria. Iria McLenlan."

Iria.

Cool.

"Looks like this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, kiddo," she exclaimed optimistically.

His scrawny smile arched a little wider. He couldn't agree more.

"Thank yooou, Iria."

* * *

Vickie: Heya all! And holy hell, this chapter took a lot of writing and checking through. There were some sentences I'm like "Meh," and went to shortening or fixing them. I'm also SHOCKED I went beyond my word count more than twice the amount. I usually keep to the word limit, 6k to 10k as my min so I don't go crazy with my scenes and not make it too long and dull for you readers. But GOD I didn't expect the first interaction between Steve and Iria to extend a lot more over the limit. 0-0

I will say there, I actually wanted to shorten it just a bit but seeing how well I've written and just mainly for the interaction alone, I can't see how to shorten it or take out stupid, longwinded sentences. :x But I'm still happy with how it went about because this is almost an entirely different direction from a chapter of my old fic. In fact, a lot of the parts are more realistic than my old one! So I'm proud with how I've written both on Iria's character and Steve's.

Also, I know two readers are gonna go "YAY! Stevezilla!" ]:3 Especially with some cute and good parts here and there.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll try to update. I'm actually gonna try to update CODE: Kronos more since I've been stuck on that for too long (I have a general idea how the chapter plays out but I'm taking a long time working on the dialogue) but that doesn't mean this story will stop. Though to be frank, I kinda am not too sure how exactly similar it'd be compared to Chapter Three of my old vamp. Ah well, we'll see how things go. Please read and review! :D


	4. Chapter Three: 'Normal'

Disclaimer: I do not own any Resident Evil characters or Resident Evil terms but I do own anything else that is original, Kronos virus, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: 'Normal'**

* * *

Quiet.

Deceiving and yet soothing to the tired soul...

The rocking back and forth of the ocean have always calmed the island since prehistoric times. Just as stars have existed for millions of years, the infinite and powerful Atlantic Ocean have existed as the only boundary that separated its old and new residents from the outside world since the separation of Pangea. Back and forth across the pearl-white sand and treacherous rocks on the beautiful and hostile island named Cape Inacio.

Yes. One side saw its beauty. The other, the ugly truth.

Those applied to one resident, Iria, the overworked director of Theseus Facility. She had seen what the island had offered; on the soil and under the sea. Eleven years ago, she was in awe at the measures taken for everyone to call the island, 'home'.

That was her naive self, only seeing the scratched surface of the iceberg. Now, Iria had grown to detest some of the ritualistic everyday activities spent on this tropical island.

But things that were of natural causes...they were ok.

The sounds were the one thing she welcomed to her mind to dull out the collected, heavy numbness while she literally collapsed onto her bed for the next four hours, with the help of the painkillers to boot.

This was the only good thing she could like on this island of ignorant bliss. The one thing that wasn't nagging, bearing teeth, giving her nightmares and tearing at her battered mental health.

But even then, her hated enemy was creeping around the corner once four hours were up, its light streaming slowly through the open window.

She moaned in resentment and wrapped her head under the quilt. Too early...

Unfortunately, the premature morning has its ways of persuasion.

 _Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnggggg!_

The hands of the alarm clock inches from her bed struck the seventh digit and horned out the knocking of bells and the insides of her eardrums. With some effort in retaliation to the first ring, a hand slapped the snooze button.

 _Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnn-THUD!_

The second ring, a pillow pounded hard on the clock before dropping down at the bedside. And at the third ring-

 ** _Brrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggggg-!_**

-the clock got hurled out of the window-

 _ **Thud!**_

Iria, out of growing rage and frustration, glared with red-veined eyes at the accursed noise box muffling in the sand. That made the fifth one she had broken this year but she didn't care. After a few heavy breaths, she slouched down her shoulders, the lingering fatigue overcoming her muscles and mind. Even the dry foul taste in her mouth didn't irritate her to get up and brush her teeth.

Right. The gears were slow in her head but she came to realize what day it was and all she could bitterly mutter with a groan was, "I hate mornings..."

It was the dawn of yet another 'normal' day on Cape Inacio for her.

To hell with it.

She plopped back down into the comfort of her bed without any restriction. Sleep won today.

Just five more minutes, she pleaded to the world.

Sleep...just sleep...

The silence seemed to grant that wish as she closed her eye-

"Aunt Iria! It's 7:05 AM! Time to wake up!"

It was soft, some distance away but it was enough to penetrate her escape into the darkness. To someone outside this house, they would want to wring that person's neck for disrupting them. However, Iria knew full well of his good intention and she would never hold it against this precious young boy. This was a daily routine he never failed to stop on mornings she refused to wake up.

In the end, all she could do was groan in a low and elongated tone into her own pillow. Not towards him, but towards her insufferable problem to sleep at irregular timing.

As she used all her strength to crawl out of bed and clean up, the second resident was already at work - more resilient to sleep. His wide hazel eyes focused on the sizzling sunny side ups and bacon on the pan. Nicely done with a pinch of salt and pepper.

"Mommph, Rammdy."

The fourteen-year-old boy with curly golden brown hair - uncombed and uncut - looked over his shoulder to see the grown-up slump against the frame of the kitchen door, toothbrush dangling in her mouth. He expected her to slide off and bang her head on the floor if she stayed there any longer.

"Morning, Aunt Iria," Randy Blackwell, her darling nephew, greeted with a chirpy jump in his tone.

A bright ray of sunshine, so innocent and dear to Iria yet peppy to take over the responsibilities in the household when she was away most of the day.

He was one of two reasons that gave her strength every day. Drowsily, she wrapped her arms around the lean boy, all too grateful to have an adorable nephew in her life and all too regretful that she wasn't playing the role of the aunt better, taking over cooking instead of him.

Though, to be fair, she only knew how to do very simple things - having burnt the stove twice that Randy banned her from ever touching it again.

"Mhmp mumpd mm hm mph mhmph quo," a series of words muffled by peppermint foam out of her mouth. Translation: What would I have done without you.

"Careful, Aunt Iria. Pan's hot," Randy warned casually, never tearing his attention from the eggs. "Your tea's done by the way."

"Thamph quo," she muttered, unhooking herself off and went first for the sink to rinse her mouth before ending at the table, toothbrush down. The relieving scent of black tea in her favorite mug - 'I heart RC' - seemed to rejuvenate her.

"Mrs. Scalia called this morning. She wants to change the appointment to 3 tomorrow and asked if that was ok."

The numbness and sleep deprivation had done quite a number on her brain, that she took a long time to recall with a furrowing of her eyebrows. "Wait, what appointment?"

"Remember?" the young teen uttered, turning away from the pan. "Something about the charts and mosquito count she showed you last Friday."

"Oh," she muttered. So much for the brilliance of a McLenlan sister. She vaguely remembered the local doctor's concern, though a resident insect isolated from yellow fever or malaria-infected continents wasn't something alarming… All in all, the woman insisted on her expertise to look over. Still, shouldn't this go through the entomological department first? "Right. I'll give her a call later."

It was a rather weak response but Randy didn't take it to heart, wheeling back to the eggs once again. "Mail's in your bag. One's bills, deadline's next Friday. Also, Mr. Jenkins returned our blender yesterday. He even gave us some of his noodle soup as a thanks. We can have that for dinner tonight."

"Hm-mm," she would hum back, barely acknowledging the words as she took small sips of the hot tea. There were moments when her body were tilting forward, ready for her head to crash on the table but with some willpower, she kept herself planted in her seat.

"And I finished the sandwiches." Plopped on the table swiftly, the large blue tupperware made quite a sound that it sharply snapped her out of her half-state somnolence. A short minute as her eyes closed while the perky boy returned to the stove. "I added juices boxes too."

"Thank you," Iria muttered. Truthfully, she was the one who decided to make the sandwiches in the first place. Again, Randy's ban on her from touching even a knife.

Really, did he have absolutely no faith in her skill inside the kitchen? That made her very sad.

"Hey, your new friend, did he like the first box?"

She lightly smiled. "Very. Wanted me to pass his compliments to you."

"Cool. But wasn't it too much for just one person?"

 _Uhhh…_

"Some of my colleagues and I shared it with him," she briefly answered - which wasn't true at all. She was the only one who had been visiting down to his cell. "Eating all alone in the cafeteria, it just reminds me of how you were when you were in 1st grade."

Randy glanced over his shoulder, curious. "Ok but how come I've been cooking for him when he could just eat what you all eat there?"

 _UHHHH..._

"Oh, come now. It's his first week and I wanted to, you know, do something for him, make him feel at home. And didn't you ban me from the kitchen?"

"You could still buy for him then."

 ** _UHHMMMM..._**

He then shrugged his shoulders. "Well. I'm happy to make something for you and your co-workers, Aunt Iria."

Phew.

Oh, so many times she had praised him for being so bright but wow, his curious probing for answers… How frightening.

"By the way, can I have my allowance a bit early this month?" The young boy twirled around, having already scooped the food onto plates and holding up the spatula and frying pan like sword and shield.

She beamed, the warmth and happiness melting away her grogginess. "Oh?"

"I need to buy a few parts for my project." He widened out his toothy smile. "Pretty please?"

"Really, now," she uttered. "I can just pay for those parts instead."

He shook his head in a humorously upset manner. "No. I wanna earn it. I'll do more house chores to make it up."

"There's no need. You've done more than what I should be doing, Randy. It'd be less of a hassle if I just give you more money instead."

" I told you. I'm doing this for myself. I wanna be independent. It's my project. I wanna put all my effort into it and that also means the money I earn to make it."

"Money isn't a big deal, Randy." But gradually, she sighed. "How are you going to take care of yourself next month?"

"I can economize. And I make my own lunches for school."

Iria chuckled. She could see his determination sparkle out of his eyes. Randy was dead set on building up his little mission by his hands only. And pocket money. This act of selflessness was adorable to her and if anything, Randy was always independent in her eyes. That being said, she wouldn't jump in if he ever needed her help at anything.

"Alright, alright. I'm not gonna throw a bone. Just this once. But don't hesitate to ask me. I can help," she insisted. "You can go ahead and take your allowance."

The bright smile on the young boy's face seemed to have gleamed even more. He put down his cooking tools back on the stove, rushed up and gave a tight squeeze to his aunt. "Thank you! I'll make it up to you."

"You don't need to," she persisted but Randy didn't listen, already rushing to her bag to fork out the necessary notes, not too much and not too little.

Iria's eyes then strayed towards the little cluster on the table of the study room, just through the crack of the open door. Quite empty with most of her books left at her office but that didn't mean no one could use it for any purpose. Currently, Randy has taken over the room to focus on his little school project for the science fair.

Fourteen years old and he had the same kind of optimism both she and Carme had as children. Only difference was Randy was following in his father's steps.

Better that way… She didn't want her nephew in hers, or his mother's. Stay far away from the shadows.

Stay away from it all...

"You'll be coming to the fair, right?"

Snapping out of the sour thought, she glanced up to find the boy, wide smirk and now with breakfast on plates. Expecting an answer right off the bat from his good aunt.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Then crept in a frown on the boy's face. A miserable one, that Iria was quickly reeling back with guilt and confusion. Wait, what? No, no! Did she say something wrong?

Randy cast a soft discouraged gaze to the floor. "You say that...but you're always too busy at work."

Now it was her turn to look conflicted. Sad.

She had have her unfair shares of missing out on a lot of family events. Dinners, celebrations, even little school events. It wasn't because she took her work over her family. It was because she had no choice.

The chains were that thick and indestructible - the "what does it matter if you want to spend time with your family? You have the project to oversee, McLenlan. There are too much important things to do. Don't waste your time on mediocre trivia" rebuff.

The number of times she wanted to smash those faces and run out the door...

Stupid really. She held a powerful title but look at her, she was far too weak and powerless to even go and support her sister's children most of the time. Disgraceful. The work was running her into the ground. Perhaps she should have never taken the title.

No… She wouldn't have gotten this far if she didn't use her position to her advantage. As much as the stress was eating away at her like maggots on a corpse, there was no way she could abandon her title now.

Not when they were so close. It may not be soon but just a bit more… She had to careful though. She and her chosen allies couldn't mess anything up.

One wrong move and...

"I-It's ok," Randy exclaimed with a struggling smile. "If I win, I can show you the trophy! So it's ok."

No. It wasn't.

This nephew of hers was so forgiving. Too forgiving for his own good. Too much understanding of his aunt's 'situation' that he didn't take her absences to heart. He couldn't force her into a corner when she was bringing in the bread. Some snobbish grown ups would look at him for being selfish, wanting more out of the only working adult in this family.

No, he wasn't selfish. Just being honest. She kinda wished she was more open like him.

If only he knew the severity behind their presence on the island… The lies, the facility...

The nightmares.

But giving high hope was the last thing Iria wanted to give, only to break it later. As much as she was doing everything she could to protect her family, she had already done her share of hurting them herself. Not physically. Not mentally. Not as some abusive guardian. Not horrible enough to raise a hand on them.

Just...not being around more often than she should...

She gave a light squeeze on his hand and smiled once he glanced at her, eye to eye. "A month's a long time more. I can open up a week for you."

It wasn't enough to move him. "Are you sure? It's ok. I don't wanna force you-"

"Randy." she stopped him. "You and Hannah are not forcing me into anything. I'd do anything for you two."

"I know… B-But work's important too."

She huffed out a light laugh. He was always looking for the middle ground. "For paying the bills and all sorts. That doesn't mean I should excuse myself from this family… I know I'm not the best aunt in the world but...I'm here for you. No matter what."

The grip on her hand tightened. Like any minute now, he could lose her for good.

"I'll make that day open for you." Iria shone out her widest beam to her nephew. "I'll be there."

It was all Iria could offer. A little grey reply and it gave a tight tug at her insides. It was a month's away but she had no doubt some bad coincidence would snake out, screwing up her schedule.

"Ok."

It was something than nothing. Iria heaved out a soft sigh before combing his fringe back to see his eyes. "Your parents would be so proud of you. Your father, especially."

A beam slowly but surely stretched out. "He would?"

Iria nodded. "He was always into tech. Just like you."

Happily, he set the plates at the table, enough for three. Jumped right into his own creation with pride.

Then he greeted. "Hi, Phi."

Easily slithering right onto the table and with elegance in tiny steps, the house cat stared about with wide, curious eyes. With purrs and nuzzles against her owner's chin as her greeting, Randy gently cuddled the mixed oriental shorthair in his arms. His best friend in this house.

"Morning, Phi," Iria greeted as well, scratching behind the contented cat's ear. Then her smile softened away and she found herself wondering under the bright, happy atmosphere.

People would say living like this was nice…

One small mistake was all that could take it away from her.

"Better eat up. You gotta leave soon."

A heavy, aggravated groan escaped her mouth. "I don't wanna. I wanna sleeeeep," she whined and buried her face into the tablecloth.

Randy raised up an unimpressed eyebrow. "You sure you should be showing off this freelancer attitude as a director? That's a big deal."

Huh…

A big deal…

How much she wanted to absolutely tell him what a 'big deal' this position was. All for their sake. For surviving. For living in ignorant bliss like this.

But that would mean he'd learn the horrible truth of his aunt.

That would also mean she'd endanger her family.

So she refrained from saying, just like the hundreds of times she wanted to before.

Iria wondered if this was how bad guys with a conscious felt. Those fictional people in books that struggled with secrets and morality gunked together. And just like them, she'd have to keep striving forth through more horrific projects.

Until the very end.

One day, she'd damn the whole world into obliteration and it'd not be by her fullest intention. One day, she'd be known as the one woman who laid waste a virus upon billions of people.

And it wouldn't be by her hand. But the whole world wouldn't know that.

She was the villain after all...

One more slice of guilt on her consciousness. Iria gave an aimless stare, eyeing the fine threads weaving in the cloth.

In this line of work, it was policy to keep sealed lips. To the world, this island and its inhabitants didn't exist. To the public just only on this island, the employees were working and researching heavily on new cures and medications from what this piece of land could amazingly offer.

To the employees themselves...that was only a third of the truth.

Inside the secret underwater facility, far away from the coast on the eastside, monsters and abominations of all sorts have been created. All the sins of hers and everyone's were locked down there, hidden beneath the waves.

A nine-year-old lie that she and her colleagues, the workers, everyone under HELIX, have been keeping. Just a boring, unattractive job life in researching on resident wildlife to everyone else.

No one knew but just her and the facility. The whole world have written all of them out as dead for nine years and nobody in town was any wiser.

Yes, baffling indeed. How could this be? How did a company, HELIX Foundations, one of the most powerful conglomerates on Earth, have so much control over thousands of lives and one virus project?

Money, power, technology. They were efficient, resourceful and knew all the tricks to make less of a paper trail. They've even managed to deceive her and the employees right at the signing of the contract - the very, very fine print written within loops for the company to twist to their advantage.

And if they didn't like any worker being disobedient or rebellious, well, that was easy.

They have their families as hostages.

One of many offers given, printed on the contract: a community town for your families to live, close to you while you work.

Very close to the dark secrets.

Without knowing, just like everyone, Iria had signed the fates of herself and her sister's children in pen.

HELIX had tightened their collars and chains on them to the point of near suffocation by noose. There was no way out of the hole they've willingly dropped in. No way of crawling out without losing someone in the process. Iria had seen those lives lost in the past.

The chastisements, the fragility, the madness, the blood...

Tell one word about this and say goodbye to your loved ones.

Your lives mean nothing compared to the values of the Kronos Virus.

She sighed heavily. How many times had she lied to her own family? She just gave white lies to her own nephew. She even lied about the neck injury few days ago, saying she had slipped and fell, hitting a chair.

No, no green monster boy nearly strangled her out of blind rage. Pfft! Preposterous.

Just...normal...work problems…

Normal…

When did that word start sounding foreign to her?

"Aunt Iria?"

She simply moaned. "I don't caaare. I only got four hours of sleep..."

"This really isn't healthy you keep doing this, Aunt Iria."

 ** _Creeeeaaak!_**

Out slothfully wandered another teenager, a girl three years older than Randy from her bedroom - the only door labelled with many 'Keep Out' and 'Don't Enter' signs. Just like Iria, she was not a morning person with the evidence of her short wavy hair reaching down her neck in dishevel.

"Morning, Han-"

A cold, gray, narrowed glare - much colder than ice - shot straight at Iria that the adult froze in her seat. There was no mercy for her to finish her sentence. Past 7 in the morning and the teenage didn't want to see her. Not even talk to her.

Iria was nothing but a promise breaker after all.

With nothing to exchange, the blonde muttered a soft "Morning," to Randy, seized her plate of breakfast and withdrew back into her room for solitary.

The thirty-seven-year-old woman felt like crying inside.

"Hannah…" Randy scowled disapprovingly. His cry barely made it to the closed door but he knew she'd not stir back out from her comfort. "This is getting stupid. Mealtime is supposed to be family time."

Iria simply was indifferent, a bit internally sad. It was expected. This has gone on many times between her and the teenage girl. This was Iria's punishment and she had accepted it.

Randy was a forgiving person. Hannah Blackwell, his older sister, was not.

"I'll go talk to her." Randy puffed out his cheeks. This was the man of the house after all. His word was always final and no one objected.

It was admiring. But…

"It's alright," Iria exclaimed coolly. "Give her space."

"But...Aunt Iria…" he whined. He knew nothing of what the last argument was that happened and he so desperately wanted it to be resolved. Be a happy family again.

His aunt simply widened her smile, false at the ends. "It's ok… Really."

Really meant there was nothing else to say so Iria quietly went back to eating and with passing seconds, Randy slowly gave up, returning back to his seat. The air now was stale, a little uncomfortable.

Iria had tried her best.

She had also tried many times to talk to her niece, tried to understand. Tried to connect. The only problem was she was an aunt.

Not Carme.

She didn't even know how to talk to her anymore. She used to, when Hannah was very small. But now...all of the attempts at a conversation just derailed off to frustration and deepening of the chasm between them. All because Iria couldn't give a straight answer to her.

Why wasn't she around the house often? Why did she have to make changes at the last minute? Why this, why that?

Why was she never there for them… And many more whys.

Bitter, painful questions Iria just couldn't fully answer.

There was a hope that the next day, Hannah'd move on and maybe one day...they could be like how things used to be. That was only wishful thinking.

She was sure Hannah saw right through her better than Randy did…

With an exhale of a sigh, Iria took a sip of her tea to dull down the sting. Randy could only look at her, utterly confused and utterly dissatisfied but in the end, shrugged his shoulders and dropped the subject before sitting down to his meal. Iria brought her gaze to the kitchen clock, thinking to herself how irksome the minutes were as they ridiculed at her to get going.

The less she stayed here, the better. She was after all not welcomed.

No rest for the wicked, after all.

"I should get going." Iria got off her seat and half-asleep, staggered to the front door. "I'll message you if I can leave for dinner."

"Aunt Iria, your clothes."

A rather near-fatal flaw to start off the morning.

"Thank you." She thanked Randy for pointing out the small fact that his aunt was about to go off barefoot and in her yesterday clothes, all wrinkled under the bathrobe. So she went back to her room for a fresh change and with her spectacles on. Still with a slouch in her walk, Iria headed for the front day, ready to give a stink eye to her day.

"Aunt Iria, breakfast."

Much to her stupor, she was still holding her mug of half-drank tea and left most of her food untouched on the plate. She marched right back to the kitchen. Too weary and bothered to spend a few more minutes in fast-eating, she dumped the leftover eggs into her drink, gathered up her bravery in one deep breath and swallowed it down in one gulp.

"Bleeeagh!" Her whole body cringed and revolted at the disgusting taste. With all her mental power, she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to shove the horrible tang out of her system and ending with a shake of her head. Once the ordeal was done, she banged her mug in triumph and grabbed for the tupperware and her bag.

Well, at least the taste has distastefully snapped her out of her drowsiness.

"I'll see you two tonight then," she exclaimed sharply with a light salute of her fingers.

"Bye."

And off his aunt went, charging with horns out into the day. Outside, the engine of her Hummer roared, the wheels rolling down the slope and onto the dirt road. Randy took a peek out of the window and watched Iria's vehicle disappear into the forest, further towards the east coast.

Just another normal day.

Frankly, the time of her arrival back home was never accurate. Sometimes near ten. Sometimes the next morning. Sometimes, she'd quietly and tiredly stray in past midnight and as desperately as she tried to be hushed, Randy would always come out of his room and sleepily though happily greet her, "Welcome home."

Three years, this irregular routine has went on, since she was given the director title. She has tried and he knew that. And he has forgiven her many times for missing out. It was ok. Aunt Iria was his aunt, not his parent. And it was fine with no grown-up in the house. Sometimes, it was nice having it to themselves. He still shared the chores with his sister after all. Still have family quality whenever the chance presented itself. There was nothing...too unhealthy within these walls, only the lack of Iria's presence and his sister's clear detachment from her.

Heck, he has Phi with him. So it was ok.

He just found Iria's approach to work so...amateurish. She was never this bad before...

"You think she'll be ok, Phi?"

"Meow," was all the cat replied.

Randy sighed. Nope, she wasn't going to be ok.

"Whoever relies on her has to be very unfortunate," he admitted as he picked up the dishes and washed them before he'd go off to school.

* * *

"Ah...Ah…AHCH-mp!"

The air was irritating and itchy that it managed to stir the tired specimen from slumber thanks to a sneeze, muffled down with a clawed hand to his nose. The force was just enough to stir light tears out of his eyes.

It had been two days and he was still inside his brand new cell. The first night, it took a while after waking up for him to remember "Oh right. I'm here," and calm down the anxiety inside before he'd turn berserk at the walls. Again.

With a sleepy push, he straightened himself up against the wall, not with a few grumbles at the aches in his joints and difficulty in maintaining to his new momentum.

That's what you get for sleeping on the floor. But hey, he was a monster - probably would crush the frame if he was given a human-sized bed anyway.

Also oddly enough given some blankets and pillows for this makeshift bed at the corner. Still, it was better than cold stone.

There was no way of telling if the sun was up or still down, no windows in his small cell. Only the fluorescent lights that automatically lit up and the small alarm clock the Doc had brought were his only indications for know that time has moved.

It was still dark but with his hyper vision, he could still make out the details of his room. So it was still that early.

Two days. It had been two dull days. Peaceful and quiet.

And sometimes mind-numbingly boring.

What? Anyone expected for him to have some exciting, blood-boiling angsty during these days? That was pretty much done on the first day. Right after that fiery discussion with Iria, she willingly got straight to answering his questions while they waited for his transfer.

She answered all of them. Honestly.

The most important ones were where was he, what was this place and what happened to him.

And he learnt a lot. No obstacles or hoops to jump through like a circus animal, no "I cannot reveal any details." Just the facts. Plain and simple. This place was a facility built underwater, right next to an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. This place was built to create the most dangerous viruses and BOWs in the world, but not under the once-fallen company, Umbrella.

It stunned him to hear the name HELIX, the name branded on the cold medicine he had used commonly before.

And what happened to him...

"You've been in cyrostatis for two years. And...after that, a coma for five years," she replied straightforwardly.

So. Seven years.

Seven years had gone past him.

The number punched right into him indeed, knocked the wind right out. Seven years gone. His mind was numb, processing far too slowly at the information he was given.

Seven years since he died. What was happening outside? How old was he really? H-How was Claire? Where was she right now?

Why? Why didn't I wake up right after I was revived? Why seven years! ?

Why have I wasted these years! ?

"You can throw a tantrum, Kiddo."

Iria's composed statement snapped him out of his dizzy state and he found himself glancing at her, confused, lost.

"You lost seven years. Aren't you angry?"

The question took him by surprise.

But... he was.

Very!

Steve let it all out, forming more holes into the walls of his previous cell and trying desperately to find something to fling it with all his frustration. Even tear at the second surveillance camera up in the ceiling. And some sort of machine gun that suddenly ejected out from the wall, the voice from above yelling, "Specimen out of control" and some annoying words The door behind Iria had opened but even she had ordered the guards and three scientists not to interfere. Even shut off that voice to stand down, regardless of its methodical reasoning to her.

As quickly as he let loose of his anger, it burned out to his exhaustion. What was more, he only noticed that throughout the entire loud and monstrous fit of rage, Iria had remained unmoved.

Unaffected.

Calm and collected.

Giving him all the space he needed.

It amazed him. Shocked him. This crazy woman was so immune by his grotesque form and dangerous strength that it didn't even scare her out of her socks - so to speak. Like this was nothing.

He was terrified of himself. Claire was scared back in the past.

Iria wasn't.

What the hell are you, Iron Woman? He had said that outright to her, never expecting a reply from Iria. Exactly what kind of freaks had she seen to be this fearless?

Even so, seeing all this, he tried to calm himself, collapsing onto his knees. Enough of his lashing out to kill something. Enough of whining like a spoiled baby.

"Better?"

Her voice was light, soft. She closed the distance between them with a comforting hand on his shoulder. There was a layer of weariness on her face that mutely told him she knew beyond doubt what it meant to lose a couple of years.

Well, not really better. He was a giant green frog with claws. Was supposed to stay dead and he found out he was revived with everything going on without him. Not technically what you should call better.

But he wasn't worst. That was something.

He weakly nodded. "...Maybee… Maybee, i-it'll go uphill from herrre," was all Steve could manage to croak, such a tiny slice of optimism barely tainting his hoarse voice. And Iria agreed with a perked-up smile.

"You just need to catch up," she offered. "You've got all the time in the world now."

"Catch up…" He glanced down to the floor. At his claws. "Don't thinnnk I can like this."

"You can. You're not doing this alone."

The words were comforting.

Iria did whatever she could since then. A director could have done much more but with the wavering, scared eyes he spotted during his transfer, it was beyond her capability to have him go about freely. After all, she had disappeared for a bit to take to some old oaf and came back with a provoked glare.

Probably someone also in a high seat - the chief of security - who said "No," and ended it. Tyrants were specimens, not free-pass 'humans' just because they showed signs of intelligence. That just meant they were much more dangerous

Iria then declared in a rather frightening manner that she wasn't going to give up. Wait, Doc. You're giving a creepy face. What are you planning to do? Stop please.

Frankly, Steve himself would have preferred to stay inside a room, far away from anyone to see his form. Better that way so he didn't have to feel more disgusted at himself. Be viewed as a precious cargo in display, eyes prying at him already like a scalpel under his skin.

It was fine and yet, the loony blonde did more instead.

In his slightly-better cell, lack of the red mechanical eyes above and defensive weaponry inside walls, she came back with amenities to give it some life. That was downright crazy, even he thought that too. The new stuff left in his cell could almost make this as close as the interior of his old cell back in Rockfort Prison.

For more than forty-eight hours, it was nothing much. It was just sleep and eat, nothing much to entertain him except for the few things Iria brought. One small portable player with music for example, both strangely never heard off and strangely...wicked. He was learning a few new things that have been made over the course of seven years. And learning how much difficult it was to hit the stupid small play button with just one talon and without accidentally breaking it.

There were also the visits Iria diligently and effortlessly made - or at least an excuse to escape her work. Small random talk, with her mostly being the listener. Still, he learned a little bit more about this woman. Just small trivial things. Just exchange of information here and there.

Also the few books she brought in.

"I don't like books."

There was a disappointed gaze when he said that to her. She folded her arms. "Well, I can't actually bring in game electronics or arts and craft down here. And what's wrong with books?"

He shrugged his board, spiked shoulders. "It's just wordsss. Couldn't you haaave brought something like tetris?"

"You were having a hard time with the pod, mister."

He grunted. "You could have given meee comics."

"Fine. I'll ask around." She rolled her eyes. "You were seventeen, right? How the hell did you even get through high school?"

He scowled. "I…" He stopped himself. "Did alrrright."

"Liar."

Right on the dot. What? He slept through almost all of his literature classes. It was all boring. Teachers tell you to learn for what reason? Because it'd be helpful to you in the long run?

They weren't helpful in the past. Not even now.

All she did was sigh and pass on the first book she brought, 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. "Just give it a shot. It's better than staring at the walls, right?"

He hesitatingly accepted the small book, examining the front and back. "...Whaaat is it about?"

"Racial injustice and destruction of childhood innocence."

He cast a terrified look at the nonchalant woman. That was a straightforward and heavy answer.

"Don't believe me? Read it and find out."

Now, he was pretty close to the last few chapters. The book was...surprisingly engrossing.

And just like that, the two days passed by. Iria had done so much to help him and he could never stop thanking him.

This all honestly felt somewhat extraterrestrial to him, a bit tense and uneasy - a freak like him given things he had when he was seventeen and normal. All of these things, he would have taken them for granted. What he was now was a constant reminder whenever he stretched out in his cell from just sitting all day. He shouldn't be given these things.

But as he laid in the cotton warmth, he was indebted. He could feel a little more human. Just a little. Because there was the irksome feeling that he could yet again lose himself to the beast inside of him.

Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice wanted freedom at all cost. That voice wasn't his…

It was dull and soft but its very existence was scaring him very much.

Thankfully, something was keeping his humanity in check.

Had he really been left alone, had the Doc ignored him… He might have been lost for good.

Steve rested down his head and closed his blood-red eyes.

Let himself sleep for another few hours before the lights would stir him out.

* * *

By 7:43, Iria had arrived.

The island was large - most of the dwellers resided near the coastlines so most of the jungle towards the east remained unscathed. The terrain had its way of forcing daredevils out of the trees, even spitting at their faces. It was harsh, it was dangerous, most of the flora and fauna were frighteningly provoking if one didn't know the information behind them. There had been a few unlucky backpackers lost for days, only to be picked up and scruffed back to town by HFC. Scratches and feverish but nothing fatal.

Nobody from the west coast has ever possibly stumbled upon the main entrance of HELIX's imitation building or the eight small outposts. Not even the research facility itself, miles away from the shore and under the sea. Only the employees knew the way, having gone through the only one path down a labyrinth of roads many times for eleven years.

So has Iria, to the point memorizing the series of left, right, right and left were second nature to her. The Hummer, with a few rocking and bumps, manoeuvred out of the wooded areas and into the open where the confined electrical barriers and watchtowers stood clearly into view.

What seemed like a 'normal' facility area to most of the islanders. Wire fences, guards with arms and the signs saying "trespassers will be prosecuted' encircling the set of buildings were enough to show the 'normality' to them.

This was all just what was on the skin...not under it...

After the usual long checkup and shakedown of the vehicle through the guardpost, Iria drove onwards, parked at the carpark and strolled to one of the blocks, its exterior looking like that of a large depot.

For the monorail system, hidden underneath miles of soil and water. The main and only means of transport to and from the underwater facility. It served just like any underground railway system - quick and simple.

The screeching announcement of the train's departure amplified over the speakers, further perking her out of her leeching drowsiness. A swift boarding into the middle car and she took her seat to catch back her forty winks.

Just a bit.

"Morning, I."

Well, that was short. But she didn't grimace.

Joining her for the ride was Victor, chewing on his first toothpick of the day with a hearty smile. "You look worse. I don't suppose you've tried coffee or modafinil instead."

"Excuse me," she began, her voice distasteful but tired. "But that black stuff causes heartburn, bowel syndrome and other degrading conditions. I'll take tea instead. And I've tried. Doesn't work."

Yep, he thought. She did have crankiness after seven. "It's still caffeine."

"Hmph. To each their own," she huffed and then continued resignedly, "Don't tell me you use that wake-up pill for the morning."

"Nope. I don't need anything except the regular wake up early and get ice-cream for my lovely wife," he hummed to himself proudly. "Anna says the little one's like a ticking alarm clock."

Iria's expression softened, a smile stretched out. "Speaking of which, how many more before the due day?"

"Two months." Victor slouched back, a smirk wider than before but it derailed down with uncertainty. "Still haven't found the right name yet." He glanced at her hopingly. "Know any good ones, I?"

"I've already given you a list, Victor. And Anna said no to them."

He shrugged with a cocky, guilty grin. "In our defense, they just didn't fit. We want one the kid will really like."

Iria shook her head but nothing of disapproval. "Don't overthink too much about it. Two months is a long way. You two will find one."

A hum and a flick of Victor's bitten, finished toothpick before the monorail slowly came to a halt. "Well, onto business as usual."

The two people in white climbed off the train, strolling into the last stop of the underground-underwater track system. Tons of stone, metal and fiberglass held against the raging pressure and water, keeping a metro-sized passage into the facility itself with employees already entering for the day.

"Kath and I went over the data on the T-Voono-whatacallit virus. Basically, improved version of the t-Virus so we were able to dig up some similarities between the two and drew some theories. Under the right conditions, it allows the host to retain full intellectual capabilities, without losing higher brain functions."

"That much we know. So you're proposing the variant took that retainment capability as its own and reformed it?"

"Gives a better idea why the kiddo managed to have his human consciousness. That experiment of yours was just a memory-boost."

"What else?"

"We were able to break down its components. One progenitor Virus and an unknown gene. But with how little the data is, we couldn't find out what gene."

The first hassle, a check down at the security post, was easily passed for them and many employees before and after them. The next was the large foyer, heavily guarded by both human and drone. The second part of heavy security: handprint and iris identification reading booths, voice recognition, all of the ropes before one could finally step within the facility.

A brush of the director's ID tag. A stare of a hazel eye and a placing of the right hand on a small red grid plane. Each asked for by the commands of GAIAN and all green.

"McLenlan," Iria announced herself to the supercomputer while Victor was next on his check-ins. "Number S24D1-45O5 X-3781. Password, 91NN19."

"Fisker. Number B54T8-23I4 Z-6523. Password, Osborne71266."

"Access granted. Welcome, Doctor Mclenlan and Doctor Fisker."

Out of that foyer, Victor heaved out a heavy breath he had held in before the scan. Everyday, they did this routine in and out. Always, he felt uneasy under the watchful eyes of the supercomputer.

Unlike him though, Iria cast a dark gaze at the robotic camera eye above, larger than the ones scattered everywhere and lodged within a series of screens. The one main eye of GAIAN overseeing the main entrance, the other down at central.

She had never liked that supercomputer…

"Ahem," Victor cleared his throat and continued on. "As I was saying, we can't get anymore info than what we got." He counted down the points with his fingers. "It's transferable by injection. Combination of Umbrella's first virus and some rare gene. The detailed effects on hosts when infected with it. And it was created by some woman named Alexia Ashford."

The name halted Iria. "Ashford?"

"One of Umbrella's scientists. A child prodigy. Or so I heard. You know her?"

She merely blinked. The name didn't really hit a nail on her. There was no meaning behind it.

So why was it familiar? Like it was a very long time ago she had heard the name. Or met this woman?

Nah. The name was unimportant to Iria. So whoever this was was irrelevant.

"No. Probably heard it from somewhere," she replied straightforwardly, easily brushing her puzzlement off. "There's nothing else?"

"Nope. We've gone through everything. Squeezed out till the last drop. If we want to know why and how he changed, then you know what we have to do."

Of course. Put him through examinations and needles. Iria exhausted out a grave sigh at the predicament: if there was ever a chance of curing him, they needed to know what they were dealing with.

But honestly, she didn't want to treat him like any of the specimens.

"I, I've already said this. It's your call on the kid," Victor uttered. "But the longer you stall, the more agitated those babblemouths are going to be. They've been pushy on us lately."

"Hmph," she grumbled. Of course, she gave the no to anyone who had been pestering her to research on Steve's internal and external biological structure and now they were hounding after her team to go under the table. The big green boy with all of his marbles was an opportunity to several white coats and they wouldn't cease their nonsense and disappointment when she cut off any tests but her own.

It was ridiculous, they told her. Why treat that monster as a patient? On and on the old gits went even to the point of mocking her that she was above them with her glorified prominence, fortunate, rise in status, blah, blah, blah.

Regardless, she understood. For some at least, they were afraid.

Iria rubbed her temple, numbing down the morning's headache. "Nothing's easy... How bad is it?"

"To the point of briding me that I can lead the project." Hands slipped into his pockets. "Left a bad taste in my mouth. If this was any other specimen, mindless even, then alright, I'd do it just to shut them up," he confessed.

"And the reason is you're opening up to the idea Kiddo is just a kid?"

"A little of that. He sounds like an interesting boy. More or less. It's more of I'm not stupid enough to turn against you, I, or ignorant to let those nitwits manipulate me around," he chuckled. "So what's your plan?"

She gave it some though. "Give him another day. I'll ask him if it's alright to do tests then. After all, he is twenty-two. Old enough to give consent of treatment."

"Twenty-two?" Victor's eyebrow perked up as he reeled his brain at the calculation. "Shouldn't he be twenty-four?"

"Do you count the two years in cyrostatis as aging?"

He opened his mouth but stopped and thought. No. No, the kid was still dead. Half-dead? Questionable but redundant.

"Hm," he hummed, amused. "Alright... And Wesker?"

Iria's face instantly hardened at the name. "He knows nothing about Steve's revival. Until I say so. Which could be days. Weeks. Months. Who knows. I'm too busy to inform him with anything."

Another chuckle. "Noted, I. Noted. I'll let you know if me and Kath finds anything more."

She nodded her thanks as the two separated: her stopping at the 2nd floor while he went down the lift to the research level.

And she eventually, displeasingly arrived at her destination. Her office. The director's office.

Years ago, this wasn't hers and she remembered very well of what the interior was, a stern and clean reflection of the last director.

Now it reflected her and the sight just spontaneously made her grim. From the day she left her title as a virologist to the high chair, it was a boring desk job for her: getting accounts about the infected specimens and approving the data written by employees, deciding on obligations that ran the place, writing evaluations of her staff and so on and so forth.

This job demanded some of her free time and neatness.

Piles of paperwork untidily stacked on the L-shaped grey polished desk, leather chair and floor. Volumes on life studies such as microbiology and pathology had been taken off their shelves and displaced about the room. The bin was drowning under a sea of crushed paper balls. The phone and computer was concealed somewhere under the disorder, which honestly, she had used once in a blue moon.

And today, a new derisive heap was noticeably smashed between the old ones, ready for her to seize a pen and start reading them through.

With all her strength, Iria fought against letting out a loud groan. She checked the clock on her phone. Only 9. Then she looked at the papers on her desk in total silence.

Iria was the kind of person to be in the field or the lab. Long-term damage deforming her backbone would be the result if she spent all day inscribing through documents diligently. She preferred her hands on a microscope or walking about with her co-workers, not on those white manuscripts and their comprehensive gibberish in the cold loneliness.

So with that, she left her office. Literally bailed out. There was no mess there, nope. Didn't even exist.

A few marching steps forth and then Iria bolted down the hall like a criminal on the run.

* * *

Vickie: Yessssss, I'm dooooone. This original was gonna be as long as one of the old chapters I did for my old fic but I decided to split it. Dunno how that will go for the next part of the plot but heeeeey. At least I'm happy this chapter gives a bit more insight bout what Iria is like outside of work. How it went after the last chapter too. :D It's also kinda fun for me to figure out what is the new virus Steve has and the details behind it without the most easiest way of explaining a RE virus is "it's a virus, move on." XD I've actually researched on a lot of medical things and RE viruses in the wiki so that you know, it all sounds scientific to read and not under the table.

With that being said, I'd be going back to CODE: Kronos and try to update the ninth chapter. I've been struggling between chapters mainly cuz I take time in writing how the situations should go without making it sound repetitive or complicated. Though sometimes character interactions are my toughest one, trying to figure out oh what emotion to use or what action to use. I've delayed too long on that chapter just mainly cuz of a part and I wanna move on as quick as I can.

In any case, for the meantime, hope you like this chapter. It's a slow pace compared to my old fic and hopefully you guys don't find the pace too boring or the little things just meh. Please r'n'r!


	5. Chapter Four: The First Rocky Step

Disclaimer: I do not own any Resident Evil characters or Resident Evil terms but I do own anything else that is original, Kronos virus, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The First Rocky Step**

* * *

" _ **So how's your morning, Stevie?"**_

In a snap, the green monster turned away from the last few pages of the tiny book in his claws. That cheery smile from the director has a penetrating effect on the cold, tedious atmosphere of the cell. However, he didn't share that air of enthusiasm today.

"Don't call me Stevie," he grumbled, trying his mental best at shoving away a bad middle-school memory as far back as possible.

She simply heaved out a light laugh as she walked in, dropping her holster belt aside. "Fine, fine. No nicknames. Well, except Kiddo."

Another grumble. "I'm not a kid."

"Fine, fine," she uttered and stretched out the large Tupperware to him. In an instant, the rich appetizing aroma through the air-tight seal pinched at his nose. Human food, not human meat. "Today's lunch is-"

"Barbecue chicken and cheese, right?"

The answer took her by surprise. Exactly on the dot. The lid hadn't even been peeled off.

There was a moment of recoiling in his stomach. Steve had been told the explanation, or at least, hypothesis, from Iria the first time round. His sense of smell and hearing had been heightened to a degree of an animal, a by-product of his mutation. His field of vision was still the same except for the fact that everything was red to his eyes. Everyone shone bright warm colors. Heat. And the most obvious physical trait of himself was that he felt stronger.

He still wasn't used to these...senses. So it was a natural reaction from Iria towards such a straightforward answer.

Yet again, she beamed another smile as she handed over the box.

"Toasted, no pickles, no crust."

"Thanks," he croaked, taking it. "Could youuu tell your cook thanks too?"

"Of course," she answered, leaning back to the wall. "He'll be happy to hear the compliment."

"He's someone special here? Lunch always seem better than the otherrr meals."

"Hm." Iria shrugged her shoulders. "He doesn't work here. Though if he did, then that would make the food here taste better. Let's just say I just know a good chef."

"Huh… Think he could cook for all meals?" he honestly uttered. Breakfast was just a tray of slop.

She shook her head, still keeping her smile. "I'd rather have him focus on his homework than go into the culinary business early."

Studies… So a kid? Steve kept quiet regardless, tearing off the lid. Huh, juice boxes. He tenderly picked one up with two talons. Carefully, without poking holes. It was the kind he used to drink back at school.

"Need help?" Iria had stepped closer with an offering hand.

Ok, now he felt like a kid. He wanted to object by putting it away but…. Defeated by his dry throat, he handed it over and while she went to work on slipping in the straw, he started wolfing the first two out of twelve sandwiches.

Another thing that he wished he didn't have. His appetite - four times more than that of a normal person. Perhaps because of all the years of being fed measly amounts of liquid food through a tube, the hunger was catching up to him. Heck, on the first day, one dish Iria brought wasn't enough that she had to make another trip back to the cafeteria.

At least and thankfully, he didn't crave raw human flesh.

"Yup, you're still a kid."

"Imph mpof a mph."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Grumble, grumble under his breath. What a stubborn boy, she thought lightly as she returned back to the wall and continued watching him eat. And just before she could roll in another conversation - she noticed something.

Was it something? Rather minor but…

With the silence sneaking in, Steve halted on the fifth sandwich and glanced up at the director. This visit from her was the third one. And every time Iria came, Steve couldn't help but ponder at this mystery.

As much as he didn't want another gasket from her, curiosity got the better of him. "Do you…just have too much frrree time?"

"Hm?"

"You come here often, y'know."

She simply blinked. "Am I a bother?"

"N-No." In fact, he was grateful for every visit. "You're some hotshot, rrright? But you come here all too carrrefreeee. Don't you have 'boss work'?"

A cross of the arms. "Excuse me. I do take my work serious."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. You'rrre down here a lot more than you should beee. You're just skipping work."

"And what makes you think that?"

"You stink of sweat."

Her body twitched. Her lower lip rolled under her teeth. All the minor yet telltale signs of a flinch. She had made a quick dash because halfway in her attempt to flee her own office, she was sighted by a few employees - ones from the the viral research groups. Iria quickly swayed away into the crowd, pretending she didn't notice.

She was caught up ten minutes later and reluctantly dragged into a meeting, listening to another monotonous discussion.

Followed by another talk with another employee on further analysis of one of their other specimens. Then another about the current spending on the new equipment for the microbiology division.

So yes. Most of the morning was gone. In fact, Iria had pretty much given herself a workup while 'failing' to escape her own duties as a director.

And seeing the little twitch, the green monster gave a toothy grin. But quickly, he closed his mouth up to hide the big sharp teeth.

She narrowed her eyes. Damn this boy's supersmell.

Iria sighed. "Well, working in this kind of place can tire anyone out."

"If you don't like being boss, then give it to someone."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sooo you'll be alright with someone _else as_ the director?"

Steve frowned. Dumb thing to say now that he thought about it. He'd probably - no, most definitely be given a tighter leash.

Iria just shrugged again, unoffended. "Hey, I could easily pass on to any Tom, Dick or Harry. There are a lot of people who wants the seat more than I do. But I have my reasons to stay. And you're one of those reasons too, Kiddo."

"Hm," he lightly and nonchalantly laughed. "I'm flatterred."

She let out a giggle. "I'm not some good witch from a fairytale that can take your problems away with a pinch of magic. I can only do what I can within my capability."

The last sentence was soft. Realistic. Steve did not argue. But it still pricked in him.

"So...what's going to happen to meee?"

That was a good question, one that the Doc did not jump into. Her smile faded away in an instant but she showed no other emotion. No worry, no conflict, no uncertainty.

Instead, she slid down the wall and sat on the floor, her chin on one hand and her eyes focused. This stance was strange. And starting to bug him uncomfortably. Iria then straightened up. "Before I answer that question, answer mine. How do you feel?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Feeeel?"

"Compare now from before. How do you feel?"

Was this another psychology test? Still, Steve turned down to his claws. Down at his own body beneath his garment. He still looked the same, as much as he wished he didn't. But as for feeling…

"I dunno," he honestly replied, shrugging his shoulders. "The same as yesterday?"

Her eyebrows knitted together. Something clearly didn't make sense to Iria.

It wasn't obvious at first but now that she had a hard good look, it puzzled her even more. There was a noticeable change, so minor and so small that Steve couldn't see it himself. The frog-green coloration was starting to saturate monotonously and his colossal muscles had shrunk down to some degree. Oddly enough.

"Come on, already," he snapped, nearly raising his tone. "Out with it."

Calm and collected, she spoke her peace. "This is just a thought. But..." she first blurted that out. "I think your mutation is reversing."

"What does that meeean?"

"It could mean there's a chance you _**can**_ turn back to a human."

His blood red eyes bulged open as wide as they could go. The words: chance, can, human. They pulled back a sense of hope right out of him.

"What! ? Really! ?" he bolted up, nearly dropping the Tupperware.

"Hang on. Easy, Kiddo," she urged with concern, her hands waving down for him to sit back. "What I say doesn't mean it's written in stone. It's just a theory on what I've noticed about you."

"My grotesque greeen scales and huge size?"

"That was two days ago. Now you...don't look the same."

Now that Iria pointed that out, he glanced back with a harder stare. Now the differences were becoming clearer. - how did she notice such minute details? He squeezed his talons tight twice. Yeah, he didn't _feel_ as strong as he was days ago. Then again, he hadn't been doing much inside his little home.

Did that mean there was a small probability?

Could he return back to his normal self? Go back to how things used to be?

...Used to be?

The questions pitted in his gut as he shrunk back, unsure.

"It's very minor but it's still something."

That sentence drew his attention back to the conversation, spotting Iria's stern expression - a 'something' she was willing to grasp and look into.

"I don't know right now what's happening or what triggered your mutation in the first place. Not even sure if all of this is connected. But that doesn't mean we won't have the answers at all."

Steve glowered with a deep sigh. He knew exactly what he had to ask. "So...why don't you do the tests now? Find out what's wrrrong with me?"

Iria slouched forward with a concerned frown. "Are you sure you'll be fine if you were put under the microscope?"

No.

"Or if you won't like the answers you'll get?"

Not one bit.

Steve was very well expecting the possibilities of his future, just like those cliche stories in video games and comics. A giant rare prized guinea pig examined at every angle with needles poked into him.

And he'd have no say in it. Who would listen to a freak?

But he wanted to know. Badly.

If this was one tribulation he had to get over it, he might as well suck it up.

"You don't need to go through if you don't want to. I'm not gonna force you."

"No," Steve muttered, shining out a beam as best as he could. "I...I don't mind the teeests."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I want to know what's wrrrong with me."

There was a short pause before she heaved a deep sigh. As if readying herself for the long road ahead. "...Alright," Iria replied with acknowledgment. "I'll set things up. Though...wonder if I can convince Ed to help."

The last sentence was soft, a huff. "Ed? You...won't be the one doing the tests?"

"I am a director of this facility but I'm not a full-fledged medical doctor. Besides, he was your doctor before you woke up."

Steve squinted his eyes, trying to recall. It was faint but it was present - the name sounded familiar. So maybe he had met him. Though he did cause a scene that did frighten a lot of people. This Ed guy was probably one of them. "...You sure this Ed guy won't be...scared of me?" he asked, opening up his arms to present himself.

"Nah. It's not so much he'd be scared of you. It's probably that he'll be angry at you for breaking his chair…"

Chair? What chair?

"But don't worry too much about it. He's a good man. You'll like him."

"Aren't you optimistic."

"Eh. I swing between optimism and pessimism now and then. We do need him to check on your physical and mental health."

"Bit overrrdoing, don't you think?"

"Excuse me for being cautious but I want to be sure you don't have brain damage. You _were_ put under ice for nearly seven years."

"Why? I'm perrfectly sane."

She opened her mouth. Then she held back the words. Like she needed to be careful.

"I just want to be sure there are no holes in your head. Are you able to remember more of yourself?"

Steve grimaced out an annoying frown, most towards himself. So very true, he disliked it. There were still gaps here and there that he wasn't able to make the connections - selective amnesia Iria called it, which would take time for him to recover.

Even the last memories he had were a bit vague...

"I'll take that as a no."

"I can still think and talk," he huffed.

"And you've proved that for the last few days. I'm more worried bout your other functions."

"If therrre are any problems in my head, wouldn't I be brrraindead?"

"Touche," she replied. "But it does help to have a clean bill of health, right?" Iria climbed back up on her feet, brushing off the dirt from her coat. "We'll take this one step at a time. Your call, your pace."

"Doc?"

Iria looked up to spy the crumpled smile on Steve's face, only to see it eventually fade.

"Is therrre really a chance I can be cured?"

Iria's smirk stayed but the gratification in her eyes weakened. The ultimate and universal principle was acknowledgeable to her - if there was a pathogen, a vaccine can neutralize it. In the history of medicine, many famous doctors produced vaccines for measles, smallpox, more deadly viruses, revolutionizing medical science to what it was today.

Making a cure on an already infected host, whether how far the stages were, was a very different and difficult matter. The many variables, both good and bad, crossed Iria's mind. Moreover, the virus in Kiddo's body and the viruses hidden within the facility were unlike any _normal_ pathogen. Reconstruction of DNA, severe body deterioration, un-life after death. A cure was possible - only one vaccine was made to establish immunity to the t-Virus - but again, two problems could occur: the host was far beyond saving for a cure or the virus would become resistant, thanks to its endless mutations.

And she was asked...could she cure an already-infected patient?

Instead of an answer, she gave a question.

"Did you get a measles shot back when you were young?"

"Measles...?" The red eyes squinted. "I dunno."

"Hm," was all Iria said as she tilted her head to the side. "I'd say 1981 or 1982 would be about right. So yeah. You should have come across it."

"Come again?" he muttered, absolutely unsure what she was softly talking about.

She then smirked. Proudful. And now it was officially making him a bit afraid. Help. "That shot you got as a child? I improvised it."

It was a contented statement but he couldn't share the enthusiasm. How was one supposed to...praise someone with that kind of achievement in life? Wasn't like a bought car or a lottery ticket won.

"Um...cool?"

Iria's eyes sunk halfway down at the pathetic half-puzzled, half-smiling face and the two thumbs up displayed. That was all she was getting? Still, she sighed as if accepting the fact that any normal people wouldn't see the same light as she did.

"It was the first thesis I worked on during my college days. A cheaper, better, safer version with almost no side-effects. Helped many children during the 80s, even those in third-world cities."

"Huh," he uttered in a tone of surprise. "I didn't know that."

Iria raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. It's not common knowledge. You wouldn't be asking who created the first aspirin, right?"

Ok, true. He never really did look up trivial things past the label anyway.

"I was a virologist before a director. Viruses is one field I'm an expert in but making vaccines is another I have full confidence on. But that doesn't mean it's going to be easy to make," Iria explained. "Just like my thesis, it takes a lot of work and time to make it, let alone a cure. So I can't give you an answer yet."

"...Until you know morrre of what's going on inside of me?"

Iria nodded. "What's more… This place's aim isn't really to cure hosts."

"To make biological warfare, right?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

Iria had easily let loose more information than Steve really needed to know: the true purpose of this facility he was locked up in. A secret research place where men in white could happily conduct the vilest and most destructive experiments - even through thick walls, he could hear the growls and groans of other specimens. Like him.

Iria sunk her shoulders admittedly. "Yeah. I'm a _real asset_ to the company on that..."

"...Doc?" he called.

She shook her head, snapping out of her mood. "Even if we had the resources, it would take months, years to perfect it. Especially if we have to do this under the books."

Steve stared miserably at the floor, feeling his hope tear down. Yup. It really wasn't going to be easy. Hell, this was putting her reputation on the lin-

"Don't you _dare_ make that face."

That tone. He hunched down his head and reeled back even smaller.

Again. Iria's hands were on her hips and her angry face was back. Didn't matter if she was giving that parent look at a huge green-skinned monster. Iria was dead set on making her argument. "I've spent over twenty years in all sorts of fields, doing what I do best. I literally brought you back from the death with your mental performance intact. So you better not be thinking

"I've spent over twenty years in all sorts of fields, doing what I do best. I literally brought you back from the death with your mental performance intact. So you better not be thinking that making a cure for you is impossible."

He blinked. "...But you said-"

"I said it'll take time. Not that I _can't_ make it. There's a difference. I vowed to take you back to that girl of yours, exactly the way you were before and I intend to keep it. Mark my word."

Sheez, real persistent she was. But he was glad to hear-

There was a slow click in his head, replaying the words she'd spoken. Then his face flushed an odd color of brown at the realization of what they meant.

 _Hold on! MY GIRL!?_

"W-Wait! She's not my girl!"

And now she smirked, folding her arms. Oh no. "Oh. Really?"

He gulped. Ah shit.

"I've watched the videos from the island. You two looked very close-"

"No! I mean, well, back then, we just met beforrre all that shit happened."

"Ah. In the heat of the action comes some sparks, right?"

"Wait, no! I mean, yes-no!" Already he galloped up on his feet but stayed rooted on the spot. "Nothing extreme happened! We were in danger, forrr crying out loud!"

"Uh-huh."

"Hey! Don't give a "uh-huh" to me! She was a girl and…and I didn't want her to be alone!"

"So you were her knight in shining armor?"

Ahhhhh! This was getting embarrassing! Like his own mother was alive and listening to every detail!

"No! She was well capable on her own!"

"Hm-hm."

God dammit! He wasn't helping his case!

"It's just-I mean she's-I don't need to explain to you!"

"You've explained plenty." The cocky smile and posture she was giving, ugh! Iria gave in return to his scowl a light giggle and a nod, much to his annoyance. "And you've given me more reason to get you two back together. Bring her sweet knight back to her and have a happy fairytale ending. Am I right?"

He was completely lost for words. In the end, with rebellious silence, Steve slumped back and folded his arms like a disappointed kid.

"Oh, don't sulk. You'll ruin your pretty face. It's adorable you like her."

Adorable. Not the word he wanted to hear!

Noble, maybe. After all, he had sacrificed his life to save hers. Not something the old Burnside in high school would have done. He'd have turned the other way. But meeting Claire and fighting alongside her, that changed him. Those memories were still fresh in his mind. Sure, his attraction to her seemed normal - hey, she was smart, beautiful and funny - he thought that it was more than just a crush.

Claire was that kind of person you wanted to be with. ALL the time...

"It's...more than that. Claire..." he muttered softly with a bit of struggle. How could he explain it well without sounding like an idiot? "She took the bad out of me and made me feel like someone who mattered." He peeked up to expect something of a tease from the director but she stayed quiet, attentive. "So yeah. I like herrr...but it's way more than just some…" He bit the inside of his lip. Oh, come on and say it. "Some...teenage love or whatever."

He peeked up again.

And Iria smirked even wider. She heard him.

"Wipe that stupid grin off yourrr face!"

Iria burst out laughing. Not a maniacal kind, exploding from two mad twins as they gave chase in their game of cat and mouse. It was relaxed, brim with warmth - breaking down that scientist facade she bore. Like a heavy weight was lifting.

"Ok, ok. No more teasing. But Kiddo, it's charming. I mean it."

Nope. No matter how sincere she looked, Steve didn't accept those words.

"I say with utmost certainty, she cared about you as well."

From her intuition? Still, he uttered, "How would you know?"

Iria's expression softened, showing recollection in her eyes. "I told you before. I watched the videos. Surveillance tapes. Only gaps because they were almost too damaged to salvage. But I saw you two."

That rose eyebrows from the big guy. He never expected for this woman to look deep into the events of Rockfort Island. Or even anything of a video to be saved.

" _That girl's name was Claire, wasn't it?"_

Steve recalled back the heated conversation Iria gave him two days ago. Ah. That explained it.

"She really cared for you. All the way to the end."

Those words gave warmth to him as he sunk back, digesting them with contentment and assurance.

"Well, looks like I'm gonna have to put everything on the table then," Iria uttered with a loud clap. Really, like a teacher getting the class' attention? "Don't underestimate me when it comes to what I do best. Same goes for my team. The best of the best here. I'm positive we'll figure what this is out."

The confidence was contagious. It was cracking out a light smirk across his face. Yes, he was afraid, doubting even at a bleak future.

"...Thank you, Irrria," he said. "For everything."

"It's my pleasure," Iria answered with a tilt of her head.

Steve sunk back, the sentence giving him a bit more determination and his anxiety inside exhausting out-

"-WHY did you drag me down here! ?"

A voice. Male. Two males. Even within the thick-walled confinement, the green monster managed to pick the sounds out. And it was right outside his door.

His fists rolled up. The voices were new.

"What's wrong?"

And the exasperation quenched down in his throat. "Doon't you hear them?"

Clearly not from Iria's startled look. She didn't have the same ears as he did.

"-You go! I'm staying right here where it's safe."

"Nuh-uh! You're the one who got the message. You're the messenger!"

"Oh no! Don't pin that on me! You were in radius!"

"Excuse me, but you particularly dragged me along! I'm just the innocent bystander."

"Innocent my ass! It was all because of the cute admin lady who fluttered her eyelashes and you couldn't say no to her! That's why you agreed to tag along. You came down here of your own free will!"

"Hey, I'm a man of my own word! Not until you told me what the message was!"

"Wah, big bubble baby!"

"Cock-a-too shortie!"

 _Slap!_

"Ouch!"

 _Slap!_

"Gah...!"

 _Slap! Slap! Slap!_

If Steve had to explain what he was hearing...it was a sad excuse of a fight between two of the Stooges. The third one was lucky enough not to be present.

"Two guys. Outside the door." Iria streamed her eyes to the only exit behind her. She specifically did put out the order, no one but herself and her team. "They're debating who should step in herrre."

"What do they sound like?"

There was some struggle but he listened hard. "I hear music. Loud. But like, from headphones. And some Brazilian accent?"

Iria immediately turned unimpressed. Droopy shoulders and a soured glare. With a rolled up fist, she hit her other hand on the identity scanner and the cell door opened.

Then the voices and slapping stopped.

Standing outside of the door, two men stood froze with limbs tangled and wide eyes. A finger hooked at the mouth there, a foot smashing onto another, a hand yanking on the tail of the white coat.

"Steve, meet Zach Torres and Jose Sanchez. From my day shift team. Who's going to get overtime if they keep acting like kids," she huffed, crossing her arms like a disappointed parent.

The two men quickly straightened up but immediately, Steve could read the signs. They were agitated and tense despite holding poker faces - they _were_ standing right outside an open cell of a monster.

Still, he politely gave a nod as a hello. Out of habit. That surprised the two men, the shorter person then returning a slight nod.

Iria rolled her eyes at the stiffness and climbed up onto the balls of her feet with arms folded. "He's not going to hurt you."

"I didn't say anything," the Brazilian man objected immediately with a hand up, swearing he spoke the truth. Nope, she didn't buy it. "Also. This is a level filled with creatures that want to rip us apart so of course, we're anxious to be here."

"He isn't going to bite but I'm going to."

Steve shot a surprised glance at the Doc. Did...did he sense some sort of disturbance in the air? "It's ok, Doc." It was a timid, barely-soft utter from Steve. Better if he'd make it easy for her. Or should it be easy for them?

"No, it's not ok," Iria suddenly barked, her eyes thinning even more. "I've said this before. He is not a danger to you all."

"Ah, come on, Iria," the short man uttered. "Don't make us out like we're rude. We came down for reason, not to make, um, him feel bad. We know he's your kid."

Steve grimaced at the men. Really? Why were they making her sound like his mom? He had absolutely no idea how to feel about that conjecture.

"Then why stand outside?"

"Again. We're down here. With specimens ready to tear us limb from limb," the tall man answered Iria. "No offence to you."

"None taken," Steve offered.

"And two things, we're total strangers to him and this is all still new to us - we still need to clock out of our whole "we are the superior minds because we wear the white coat here" attitude and not view him like an exhibit."

"Hm-hm." The voice from Iria's slabbed lips was hanging, unconvinced.

"Look. We'll be all merry friends with the kiddo over there at our own pace. Give us time. But right now, we came here to pass a message to you."

Iria simply folded her arms. It was going to be a long way but it was no good to push more, she acknowledged that. It'd only make them more paranoid. "So what _is_ the message?"

Silence. Stiff that it could choke a person.

"Do the rock, paper, scissors again and I'll send you both back to deskwork for a week."

Again. Stiff silence. Iria stirred out from her spot just as the two men were ready to swing their hands at them, jumping back into stiff stances at attention before she fully stood in view of the door.

"Now, exactly why are you down here?"

Then an elbow to the rib.

"Ouch!" Zach passed a scowl at his assaulter, who was denying he ever did anything by looking away. "Ahem, admin called."

It wasn't something of a direct impact to her, giving a calm "So?" kind of look. The administration calls her, the many divisions of science contact her, staff, etc, etc. All part of a director's job. "And?"

"Weeeeell."

He tried to find the right words. Might as well get over with it. He stood on his toes and whispered them close to the ear of the indifferent director.

"Hannah's in custody. Again."

There was a hanging pause, stiff and thick like the restriction of a pushed down spring, ready to be unleashed at the release of its hook. There was digestion of the words that ignited a fuse. A very enclosed fuse. The two lackeys suddenly backed away one step from Iria as she was holding in her breath, shaking her fists and shutting her eyes.

At the release of her breath, she turned to Steve with a strained beam. "Excuse us just one second."

And all three people were out the door, the two men mainly shepherded by Iria in a rush.

Despite how thick these walls were, Steve would clearly hear the conversation.

"What happened! ?"

"We don't really know. Admin just told us to pass the message to you."

"How long ago was this! ?"

"Fifteen. Thirty? I don't know."

"We've been looking for you the entire time just to give you their word. Please stop yelling at us."

The conversation kept on rolling, the demanding questions with the weak, short answers. Something about a person named "Hannah"? If he had to guess...this sounded a lot like one of those worried parents with that one troublemaker kid from his school he'd hear about.

Guess she had her own problems, family ones. Well, duh. Everyone has problems.

"Wait, Ir-!" The loud, frustrated bellow and the footsteps fading away from the cell told him clearly: Iria booted it before her colleagues could stop her.

And then there was silence.

Awkward silence.

"So now what?" one of the scientists, the Brazilian guy uttered.

Another five minutes of soft banter. For sure, the two would go on with their own business. Not like they'd walk back in and continue on the chat.

So Steve slumped back to his seat. Guess he'd have to wait and be bored out of his mind-

Then the door whooshed open.

"What are you doing! ?" a hiss from the Jose guy. But his comrade didn't listen. Steve's was on alert mode with shoulders hunched up, unsure how to take this. If he tried to go forth, he might scare them. Which could be good or bad. If he stayed put, maybe they might not do something funny. Again, good or bad.

But the shortie did nothing once he was inside. Yes, he was still nervous. Hands behind his back to show that he has no intention of hurting the big guy. Eyes gazing about for anything. Without the smiling blonde here, the noiselessness hung so menacingly in the air that it gave the eerie sensation like back from Rockfort.

The short man took a deep breath and gave eye contact.  
"Sooooo...how's the pod?"

...Was Steve supposed to respond like a normal human being? Maybe the smacks from the other guy knocked out a few cells in his head. Still, the stranger waited. A little patiently. A little anxiously.

Steve cast a peek at the small little music device beside him and picked it up. Right, Iria did say it was from a colleague. "This yours?"

"Sorta. Used to belong to my daughter." He swallowed in his hesitation and continued on. "She got a new one. But it was still good, shame to just throw it away. It's yours now. Have my own." The man lifted an inch up of his large headphones for display before laying them back on his shoulders. Again, silence. "Wow. Pretty quiet here. You must be bored out of your mind. The songs' to your taste?"

"It does...sometimes. The tracks are ok."

"Cool. Cool. Wasn't too sure what you'd like so I just added songs I liked."

Huh. So he was a rock metal and pop fan. Didn't expect that.

"Can't believe you can talk. Or even respond."

Now it was the other man who uttered, in a state of confusion and trance as he wavered halfway through the door. Upon realising he had stepped in and uttered those words, he threw out an awkward cough.

"Um. Ahem. Sorry, force of habit. You know...us scientists being scientist-ee."

Steve showed no reaction to the previous statement and even the second one, not so much. "You were doing your job."

The Brazilian man raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's the excuse you're going to pick? We're pretty much the bad guy here." He was even more confused than before. "Iria told you everything, right?"

"About the virus? Yeah…"

"Then aren't you angry? You're in this place with nutjobs. Where specimens like you are going through hoops! And like this!" His hands folded out at Steve's gigantic form, elaborating the point.

"So?" was all he could exclaim. "It's not like I can blame you and my prrroblems would go away."

The tall man dropped his arms, taking it all in with surprise.

Why was he surprised of him? The better question should be...

"Aren't I..scary to you?" Steve asked with the utmost honesty.

Both men glanced at each other, digesting his inquiry.

"I dunno. We should be scared... But already this far in, talking with you...the line gets a bit blurry, to be honest," Zach answered.

"So you're just going to take this like it's nothing?"

He shrugged. "If Iria is fine with you, then we're fine with you too."

So the reason was the same. Iria was the common denominator in this equation.

"And that's alright with you?"

"Yeah," the short man, Zach replied. The tension in his small body was slowly leaving, making way for his personality to shine out - a shmuck smile like he was proud and brave of his confession. "She's our friend." Now it was Steve's turn to furrow his eyebrows."Ok, also our boss but if she wasn't, this place would be stiffer than the sticks up there."

"Friend, boss, colleague, teammate, whatever you can call her," the tall man, Jose, interrupted. "We've worked together for so long we know we've got each other's back."

All Steve could do was stare at him, dumbfounded, and sink back. Made sense Doc would have friends, he just never expected them to be so chilled-

"If you're that cautious about us, we can leave."

"Ah...no. No." His voice died out. What else was he supposed to say? He didn't dislike them. If they knew Iria, then they should be fine in his book. This was getting awkward.

Feels like the first time meeting his more up-frontal smiling teachers and he had no idea how to respond without being a weirdo.

"Got a girlfriend?"

He could feel his cheeks heat up. REALLY! ?

"D-Did Iria tell you-! ?"

"Nope. She didn't. Your face gave it away," Jose calmly exclaimed.

Fuck. Fuck, _fuck,_ _ **fuck!**_

Great. Now three people knew. Someone dig up a hole and bury him in it.

"Figured you'd have someone before you ended up in this hellhole." The Brazilian man smirked with the cross of his arms. "So she swept you off your feet with her brains? Personality? Strength? All of the above?"

Steve cowered back as much as he could against the steel wall. Ugh, all of the above but no way was he going to give him the day of getting his answer.

"Ah-ha. All of the above."

Did he have a face like a deer in headlights or something! ?

"Feel better?" Jose asked. "Not so tense anymore?"

Steve blinked. As a matter of fact...yeah. And the light smile from his visitor mellowed down more of the slivering pressure.

The Brazilian man shone out a goofy, triumphant smile. "You must have been real busy before you were dropped here."

The pit in Steve's gut crept back, this time different from before.

"...I can't...really call her my girlfriend…" he admitted sadly. The two men raised eyebrows but he felt silent. He didn't want to continue.

"Wait. You haven't asked her out yet?"

The question barely hit his ears, his mind too all focused on the past.

If there was ever a possibility of well, kicking it off, it was right back on that plane they flew. Maybe before. Maybe right at his death. He didn't know.

There was something he said even, at the end… What was it? Don't think Claire heard him anyway…

And the more he thought, the more the festering hole was opening inside of him. Seven years have passed. Claire must have moved on. It was a small sting because he thought deeply about it now that he was alive. He didn't want her to be tied down by his death, move on. But he was afraid. Slightly, not like he was going to admit it.

Think by now she got herself a boyfriend? That was...unimaginably scary. He was alive right now and still far away from ever seeing if there was a chance between them.

No way there was a chance now. Look at him.

His fingers absentmindedly stroked the large furrowed scar on his lower abdomen, the tiny healed holes - where his stitches were - scattered diagonally. Yeah, that memory was very vivid.

"What's wrong?"

Steve traced back to the reality he was in. He still couldn't understand it. So he ended up blurring out it.

"Why...why is Iria so dedicated to get me out of here?"

The question didn't really sink into his visitors and it was there he realized his mistake. Ah, shit. Were they going to use that against her? Upshur their leader to take over the seat?

"Wait. I didn't mean-

"We know," Zach interrupted him. "Like Jose said. We know each other well to have each other's back. And we already know Iria's reason for helping you to get off this island."

"Why the question?" Jose poked with puzzlement.

There was hesitation from the boy's part. "You...can't be nice just beeecause. You just said it yourrrself, you'rrre the bad guys. But why arrren't I being treated like a lab rat?"

Time ticked on for the absorption. Jose chose his words. "Well, do you wanna be treated like one?"

The monster grimaced.

"Figured as much. Well, you aren't wrong. We're the Doctor Frankensteins making bloodthirsty bioweapons. All for the stinky rich CEOs to control the world. I'm not gonna deny that."

"Very nonchalant way of answerrring. What, gonna soften meee up?"

Jose chuckled, whether out of amusement or bitterness, he wasn't too sure. "If we wanted to put you on a slab, you'd be knocked out two days ago."

"Also, one, Iria would kill us. Two, some of us ain't the crazy type," Zach stepped in defensively. "Why are we here when we should be doing paperwork on viral structure right now?"

The notion never crossed his mind. "Becaaause you had a message for Doc?"

The guy with the headphones rolled his eyes. "Look. Yes. We admit it like boy scouts. We're the bad guys. And if you got a problem with whatever Iria's been doing, just say it. Nobody's going to get hurt."

"N-No." It came out like a surprise, one Steve didn't expect. The thought kinda irked him a bit. Maybe it was because Iria's been the only friend he had so far inside this place. "I just...don't get it."

"Why one of us is being buddies with someone like...yourself and not being the evil scientist with that german maniacal laugh?" Wow, straight to the point. "That is something you're going to have to ask her."

He frowned but it was to be expected.

"Even if we gave you the answers, you'd probably not going to believe our word," Jose added. "But there's one thing we both can vouch for is that Iria's not going to leave you be. Can't lie about that."

"Yup. She was so worried about you when we tased the hell out of you-omph! Ouch!" The wind was knocked out that the short man hunched down, leaning against the wall in agony.

And Steve was reminded. He did attack Iria and the bitter taste rose up again at the back of his mouth. Even if Iria had pardoned him, he did hurt her and paid the price. The short memory of an electrifying pain pinned into his side became fresh.

"Oh. Right."

"Sorry, his big mouth runs off when it shouldn't," Jose apologised. "You did hold our director by the throat. And GAIAN was ready to mow you apart. So it was the tasing or letting Miss AI handle it."

"GAIAN?"

"Genetic and Artificial Intelligence Access Network. Supercomputer that watches everything 24/7.

Steve blinked. Really? One side was "Wow, technology has gone so far." and two, "Greeeat, some killer machine from that one movie."

"Ah, you're not alone. We all hate it," Zach added once he regained back his breath. "Back to the topic. All I'm saying is even if you can't trust her or don't know her enough, Iria's gonna be that mother hen charging right into the fox's mouth just to protect you. She's done that for us."

Ok, now he pitied Iria to have such an employee like Zach. "She must be reeeeal grateful to have you lot."

"Yup. Every single day. We throw her an annual drink day to show she's the best mom. Like Mother's Day."

"Ugh," Jose groaned, clearly looking more like that one guy at the party who wants to abandon his blabbering cuckoo friend quickly. "Zach here, as over-the-top lengthy as he can get, is right. She isn't going to let you go so easily."

"Hey, if it makes you any better, we got your back too. Um. Within our powers… You being colossal and all," Zach added.

Steve still wasn't too convinced. So Jose continued on. "Hear me out when I say Iria has good intentions. You landing here made a big impression on her that well. On some of us."

"And what's that?"

"That's you were just a kid."

A rather straightforward answer that surprised Steve.

"To Iria, you were and are a kid who lost everything."

"Gave some of us a wake-up call there. It's borderline fine when the test subjects are like past their prime days... Well, still isn't. But...meeting you here..." There was a change that Steve never expected to see in these two strangers. Actually, it was a change he never thought of seeing so quickly from Iria until she gave him that whomping days ago. Zach then gave his most honest look and said, "We can't see you as _just_ another project."

"...So, this is pity."

"Maybe. Or it's sympathy," Jose offered.

Steve knitted his eyebrows. "Aren't they the saaame thing?"

"Same synonyms, different usage. However way you see it, she knew you didn't deserve being landed here with us."

"Nobody deserves to be here. But, unlike you, we willingly signed our fates without knowing our consequences. In the end, it's the same. Everyone is a prisoner here."

Steve narrowed his eyes at the sentence out of Zach and the weak, dying chuckle… There was something odd about it but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was enough to sink down the two men's beams - not to absolute frowns but their expressions had changed at the drop of a pin.

Did he hear that correctly?

Everyone?

Prisoners?

He was about to dig out more information but the sound of faint footsteps intruded into his ears. Three more newcomers. Outside. Heading to his direction.

"-McLenlan isn't here to stop us."

"Are you out of your mind? She's the director!"

"An incompetent one. I've had enough of her nonsense and her "attachment" to this specimen!" Steve's face crunched up with furrowed eyebrows as he listened on. "After the tests, I'm sure the heads will change their minds about her position."

"Haha, it'd be a nice change indeed with you on the seat, Soo-Jin," a shrewd voice of a man spoke out. "The one who made a powerful, conscious specimen and the one who uncovered Carme McLenlan's work."

The name stirred a small spark of puzzlement out of Steve. That was the same last name as Iria's. But it was dulled out by the tensity growing, the footsteps closing nearer to the door.

"Her research will be ours."

"Hm? What's wrong, Kiddo?" Jose only noticed his discomfort.

Swoosh went the door.

"What the-" one of the voices outside spoke.

"Torres. And Sanchez. What a surprise."

The faces of the tall Brazilian and the shortie instantly stiffened to the sound of the deep, cold voice just as they turned to the sound of the shifting door. The warning signals had only just been lit up the moment they realized who the visitors were.

The three strangers were two men and a Korean woman. Out of the three, two showed their shock at seeing the two men as unwanted guests whereas only one shone a smile. A cold smile. A smile that gave such an uncomfortable feeling down Jose's and Zach's spines.

The scientist taking the lead of the trio tucked his hands into his pockets and kept his chill far below zero than his companions. "What business do you have here?"

Nobody replied.

"Oh come now. We're all colleagues here. No secrets."

"...Hmph," Jose laughed, gathering up his composure. "We should ask the same thing, Morgan. Iria made it clear no one but her and the day team is allowed here."

"Oh?" Morgan hummed with a methodical tilt of his head. "But this floor is open for all employees." The two men didn't budge. "It's rather silly for Iria to postpone everything on this one specimen. The heads are going to ask questions. And the things we can learn about that new strain."

Words dug right into Steve's gut. Man, did he want to punch the guy. He could hear him very clearly, the bastard!

"It's been entertaining to see Iria act humble to this sample. But whatever her reasons are, it has gone on too long. I don't care if she's trying to redeem herself. It'd only put our careers in jeopardy. You both understand, don't you?"

A convincing statement but neither Zach nor Jose budged. In fact, their faces had darkened much to Steve's surprise.

"Don't you think it's about time Iria step down and rest? She has been through far too much, mentally and physically. Her work has been remarkable that she deserves a break." What he really meant was, she was a mental patient needed to be strapped down. "What say you?"

The glares deepened more. Then Jose made his move.

"Outside. Now."

Morgan didn't jolt out of astonishment but instead frowned. Confused. Disappointed, his face read. Still, he shrugged and acknowledged, stepping away from the doors. The two lackeys followed suit and Jose stormed out next, preparing himself for one battle of words.

"H-Heeey." But a raised hand from Zach signaled him to calm down. Stay still? Bad idea but Steve wasn't in any position to fight. "They'rrre going to forrrce the tests on me..."

"Not on our watch." It was a soft whisper out of Zach, too soft for the three strangers and Jose to hear but enough for Steve to hear. "Kid. Lay low till Iria gets back here. Whatever you do, don't panic, don't leave this cell. Got it?" He cast out a stern glare, completely an opposite to his previous joker attitude. "I mean it."

Steve wanted to rebuff. Rebel. This was his life on the line. But a\ll Steve could offer was a small nod. He watched Zach leave through the door and with no choice, listened to the conversation taking off.

No good. The anxiety inside was ringing all the alarms inside of him. Even more, a voice was telling him to do something. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't let them.

Wait. Was it his voice? No. What? It was adding more pins into him.

Get out. He had to get out.

Steve then spotted Iria's taser on the floor. In her scurry out of the facility, she had completely forgotten her stuff. Real careless of her.

It was rather strange-looking, a weapon he had never seen before. It looked like a gun but the trigger was over the handle and it most certainly did not fire rounds, devoid of a barrel. However, he knew full well just how painful it was being electrified by one of these babies.

Not like he could use it anyway. His fingers couldn't slip through. But it gave a bit of reassurement to him. It was a gun, guns were better than people.

Right now, he needed that reassurement in this waiting game. The arguably battle outside reigned on but for how long?

Steve never thought he would be considering it but he wished Iria had not left at all.

 _I hope you're on your way, Doc._

* * *

"She did what! ?" Iria barked through the receiver end of her cellphone, hooked between her shoulder and cheek as she maneuvered the Hummer through the wooded route. Full speed. "How… Yes. I understand." She forcefully swallowed in her groan. "I'll be there in thirty."

Hit the button without even a glance, eyes fixed on the road.

She should be angry. She actually was. But it was a short fuse, her mind too preoccupied with the thoughts of how to handle this. She ended up with no answers, ushering out a deeper sigh. Then the cellphone rang in her hand.

"Hello?"

It was a slow build as she listened to her speaker. She knew the voice immediately but the words gradually tugged at her apprehension to the peak. In a split second, she slammed her foot on the brake and the Hummer screeched to a spinning stop.

"WHAT! ?" It was almost ear-piercing to the other voice on the other end but Iria was all too overwhelmed to give an apology.

Three employees were going to seize Kiddo and bind him down for their personal assignments. Behind Iria's back.

"Ahhhh!" was all she could groan. Down her head plopped onto the horn with teeth gritted. One problem after the other. Those sly gits. They had been demanding. Saying, "That specimen is valuable to the project," or "It's not human. Stop wasting time!". And eventually, they got a bit too impatient...

"Iria?" the other voice, a woman's, repeated her name on the other end but she barely listened. What was she supposed to do?

Iria peered off into the distance. Beyond the trees was where the facility was. Where Kiddo was. With internal conflict, she glanced over her shoulder. The town was another six hundred feet away.

Family. Family was important. And she could ask any of her close colleagues to jump in. Help Kiddo out in her stance.

No.

Steve had no one.

Just...her right now...

With a narrowing of the eyes and the tightening fingers on the leather, she made her mind. How shameful to abandon one for the other.

It was ok. She had already screwed up before. One more? Probably would push the severed tie further away.

But one day...Hannah would understand.

"I'll be back in ten. Tell them to stalk for time till I get there." And she didn't give her friend time to reply back, already jumping onto another number as she hit the gear.

 _Ring, ring!_ Come on, pick up!

"Marge's Diner. How can I help-"

"Marge? Sorry. Need a favour. My niece's at the precinct again."

"Oh, dear. But why aren't you picking her up?"

"Emergency," was all Iria could toss without too much revealing. No secrets could be told. "If I don't get back…he…" What was she supposed to say? A close acquaintance was in trouble? Sounded vague. Sounded like an excuse.

There was a moment of quiet decision on the other end. The worry and urgency behind her frail voice were enough to convince her friend on the other end. "Alright. I'll go get her out."

"Thank you. I'll pay you back."

"Don't thank me." The voice was still the chirpy, good-natured tone, unhinged by the passing weight of the task handed over to her. "But your niece isn't gonna to take this kindly. Her aunt not the one picking her up"

Another squeeze on the wheel. Very true. She should be the one getting her niece, not a stranger, not one of her friends.

"I know," she replied softly. "I know."

One day. One day, Iria would expose everything out. Why she had to do what she did. Every single one of the whys.

Just not now. Not yet.

"I just wish there was another way," she heaved tiredly and honestly. There was no other answer she, a brilliant scientist, could give.

Tossing her closed phone aside, Iria hit it full throttle and zigzagged into the forest.

* * *

Vickie: Finally. FINALLY! OMG, you have NO IDEA HOW LONG THIS TOOK! ALL BECAUSE OF DAMN F-ING DIALOGUE! TO WRITE HOW THE CHARACTERS SHOULD REACT WITHOUT SOUNDING OFC! OMG! AHHHAHAHAHAHA! IT'S DONE! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE HERE!

Ahhhh...onto the next one. :') Which will be a doozy since WELP, looks like people wants answers out of Steve whether he LIKES IT OR NOT! Which I've already briefly started actually, along with a couple of future chapters. Now whether or not I'll finish them, that's another matter as you now know my biggest struggle is (god-fawking-dammit) dialogues.

Also I do need to go back to CODE: Kronos chapters too. Ahhhh. orz Regardless, I do hope you'll enjoy even if it's just talking, that you'll be patient again though hopefully I'll be faster on the next updates and please r'n'r! Thank you!

PS. A bit of fyi, this chapter was originally named Chapter Four: The First Step is Always Rocky. But chapter titles put a limit that rocky was cut out. So hence, the first rocky step. :L Still would prefer the other one...


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